A Time to Love
by Mizuni-no-neko
Summary: De anon from the kink meme. Alfred Jones and Ivan Braginsky are cops assigned to go undercover as lovers to take down a powerful gang pushing drugs through their city. The only problem is that the two of them can't stand each other! RusAme
1. Chapter 1

This is a de-anon from the kink meme and will henceforth be updated on my LJ and

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Alfred Jones came back to the station the same way he usually did after working the beat with one Ivan Braginsky: covered in bruises and cuts. To be fair to the Russian man, the lacerations and contusions weren't _completely _his fault this time. They'd gotten a call near the end of their shift about a domestic disturbance on Maple Street, a surprisingly bad area given the cheery sounding name. Apparently the neighbors had heard yelling, followed by screaming, and then an eerie silence that had worried the old gal enough for her to call them out. They'd rushed over, both silently praying that one or both of the participants wasn't dead or severely injured.

They'd arrived on the scene to see the door ajar, the apartment trashed, and a young woman lying limp on the floor. They feared the worst, and why shouldn't they? It seemed as if they'd been too late. But suddenly the girl stirred slightly. Ivan checked her breathing and other vitals and found, thankfully, that she was merely unconscious and not dead as they'd feared. 

While Ivan called for backup and an ambulance, Alfred had searched the apartment, gun drawn and eyes blazing with righteous fury. He despised wife-beaters more than any other criminals, except for maybe pedophiles. Both types of bad guys preyed on those weaker than them. They were cowardly and it was about time they picked on someone their own size. Namely him.

He'd arrived at the window over the fire escape just in time to see the perp, a young man about the girl's age, scaling down the fire escape into an alley. He'd immediately chased after him, practically tearing down the ladder and taking off after the man. He swung like an ape down the fire escape, nimble and seemingly at home in this urban jungle.

It hadn't been a long chase. The man was wounded from the fight, apparently the girl had a knife tucked away somewhere on her person in case he decided to do exactly what he did. She'd stabbed him in the leg before he knocked her unconscious and escaped. Alfred took him down, tackling him to the ground and attempting to subdue him.

But, though his foe was wounded, he was not going to go down without a fight. A scuffle broke out. The perp threw a punch, catching Alfred square in the jaw. A swift knee to the man's stomach winded him, but he got in another punch to Alfred's chest. By the time the backup cars arrived, he'd managed to cuff the still struggling man and get him into the back of the squad car as the girl was being loaded into the ambulance.

Ivan had merely taken in his battered appearance and smirked, remarking, "You could not even take down a wounded man? You must be letting yourself go, Jones." It had been progress, at least, from their usual routine of beating the crap out of each other when no one was around to get onto them about it or ask questions later. In fact, it was about as close to a compliment as he was likely to get from him. Not that he particularly wanted the asshole's compliments.

"Jones, what the hell happened to you?" Came a voice from across the locker room. It was the squad commander, Arthur Kirkland. He'd known the commander for a long time, they had a lot of history together. But it wasn't as if the older of the two men had any problem with taking Alfred down a peg. In fact, as his half-brother it was kind of his job.

"It'll all in my report, commander." He said cheerfully, loosening his tie and opening the door to his locker. Arthur merely huffed and glared at him. As much as he loved the little wanker, Alfred could be quite infuriating at times. But family was family, and there was nothing to be done.

"So it wasn't Braginsky this time?" He asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. If he'd been lying, Alfred might have been nervous. Arthur was probably the best at telling when a person was lying in the whole department. He could pick out a tell from a hundred meters off. It made him quite the formidable opponent in poker. He was especially adept at reading Alfred and their two other brothers, Francis and Matthew. (Their dad got around.) He was like a human lie detector.

"Nope, this was all legit. The fucking commie didn't even get a punch in." He said proudly. His chest puffed up and for a moment, Arthur was reminded of a young boy bragging to his friends on the playground.

"So I am to assume that _you_ got one in on him?" He asked, eyes narrowing further and tone icy. He was in no mood to put up with his little brother's shenanigans. It had been a long day and it promised to drag on even further.

"Nope, but I landed a few on the perp. But that'll be in my report too, _sir_." He teased, grinning like a school boy, a motif that reoccurred often when one was talking about Detective Jones. Arthur sighed and shook his head, wondering (not for the first or last time) why his brother had to be such an idiot.

"For Christ's sake, Alfred. Do try to be more careful. You've already been on probation twice for fighting with Braginsky. And for the last time, he's not a communist." At this point Arthur was mentally cursing his family all to hell. A bunch of idiots, the lot of them! Sometimes he wondered if his life would have been better if he was an only child, or if the other boys had just stayed with their mothers.

Their father, the Chief of Police, had been a notorious play boy back when he was a detective. In the span of only 7 years he'd fathered four sons by four different women. It had been quite the scandal at the time, what with none of the boys being born in wedlock but Alfred (who was their Dad's favorite, but no one really minded because it was more of a curse than a blessing.)

First there had been Marguerite, a wannabe French actress who had a fling with their father and become pregnant. She had been furious, insisting that Sam had ruined her career with this child. The young detective had wanted her to stay at least long enough to have the baby and leave it in his care, knowing that she didn't want it. But Marguerite had been young and rash and had fled back to France while still pregnant.

Two years later Sam met a beautiful, unhappily married novelist from England and they'd begun a whirlwind romance while she was staying in the city trying to come up with ideas for her novels. She had been stuck in a dead end marriage with a man she didn't love, but Sam made her feel young and alive again. That is, until she became pregnant. Her marriage had been destroyed, but she couldn't bring herself to be overly mournful. The pair had agreed mutually that it was for the best that they part ways and Emily go back to England with the child.

Three years passed by and Sam met another wonderful young woman, a comic book artist named Patience. This time it wasn't just a fling. Sam fell completely head over heels for her and this time he was determined to make it work out. So Sam proposed and they were married on a crisp, clear fall day. Their son Alfred, who Patience called their little blessing, was born the following July. But the birth had been hard and Patience had been very sick through the last trimester. Before the young family even had a chance to grow together, she was taken away.

Sam never thought he'd love again, and in a way he was right. He never felt for another woman the way he had for Patience. But there was a Canadian diplomat, a quiet woman by the name of Mary who was kind and gentle and didn't ask too much of Sam, who managed to stumble into his life. She moved in with him and helped him take care of his now one year old son.

It wasn't long until the stork visited again, this time bringing a healthy baby boy who the couple named Matthew. But something seemed off about Mary in the days after the birth. Sam was afraid she would go the way his wife had. But it had turned out to be even worse. For three days after Matthew was born, his mother abandoned him, his father, and his brother.

Alfred and Matthew didn't even know that they had older brothers until they were 5 and 3. Sam had never really considered telling them about brothers they might never even meet. But fate is a fickle mistress and one by one the boys came inevitably back to their father.

First Francis' mother had dumped him on their father, telling him in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to raise his brat anymore. The 10 year old had begged his mother not to leave him with the strange man in a country where he didn't speak the language, but she'd just left without a backwards glance. Despite the traumatizing nature of his abandonment, Francis took to his father. More importantly, he turned out to be the perfect babysitter for his younger brothers while Sam occupied himself with his job to keep his own pain at bay and food on the table for his boys.

Arthur's mother had been a bit more kind. She truly loved her son, but was very poor and couldn't support him. She brought him to his father so that he could have everything he needed and a better chance in America. Arthur took the separation hard and became sarcastic and shut off from his emotions.

But he adored his brothers, even Francis; though he'd never admit it. Still, he missed his mother. They all did. But at least Emily would come to visit when she could manage it. To this day she still sometimes visited when she could and was the closest thing to a mother the other boys had.

They had their differences and their fights, but they were quite a very close-knit famiy when it came down to it. Being the children of a detective, they were sometimes left alone most of the day and into the night. They went through various babysitters and Arthur's mother would watch them when she was in the city, but mostly Francis took care of them. When Sam Jones got promoted to Chief of Police when the boys were 14, 12, 9, and 7 they saw even less of him. But they didn't complain much, they were used to it.

And when they were each, in turn, old enough to go to college and pick a career choice, they all invariably followed their father into the world of law enforcement. Francis had started out as a lawyer, and a pretty good one to boot. But after losing his license because of a sexual harassment suit, he turned to police dispatching. Something he loved doing (mostly because he loved the sound of his own voice). Arthur and Alfred both became cops, with Arthur making squad commander and Alfred becoming a detective. Mattie was a legal aid working his way through law school and learning the trade through watching those he worked for.

And that was why it was so hard to see his little brother struggling to get along with his partner. They were a good team, when they weren't at each other's throats. They were probably the best cops in his squad, not that he'd tell either of them that. But the group dynamic was just plain awful. To make matters worse, he'd just received a request from the gang crime unit to borrow the two of them for something. That could only turn out badly, as far as he was concerned. Once the other unit saw how horrible the two were about fighting, they would report it. And, invariably, news would reach their Father. And that was _not_ something Arthur wanted him to find out. He would completely blow a gasket and probably fire Braginsky for messing with his son.

"Whatever, forget I said anything. Just..." He sighed and shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just get dressed, get Braginsky, and get in my office. I have an assignment for you." He said, waving over his shoulder as he exited the locker room. "And don't get into any trouble between here and my office, alright!"

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, even though Arthur couldn't see the gesture. A new assignment! He and Braginsky hadn't had a new assignment since they'd managed to almost botch the last one fighting! And now they were getting another chance after months of working the beat! He wondered what it was! Their department mostly handled domestic abuse and sex crimes, so what could it possibly be that Arthur wouldn't have told him right then or over their weekly family dinners? It must be something fucking epic!

He hurried to dress, practically tearing at his clothes in giddy excitement before bolting out of the locker room to find Braginsky and tell him the great news.

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Ivan Braginsky crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and waiting for their commander to speak while his partner fidgeted excitedly beside him. The boy was so infuriatingly hyper all the time and sometimes it was all he could do not to reach over and grab him by his hair until he stopped his restless movement. But now was not the time, especially not considering the rather interesting coincidence of the two being both brothers and the sons of his boss.

So he waited semi-patently while watching the commander pace back and forth as if he had a hard decision to make within the next few minutes. If he was this worried then it must be something potentially dangerous. He would not delude himself into thinking the worry was for him, but there were definitely advantages to being partnered with the man's brother.

At long length the British man turned to them, eyes hard and resolute. Whatever decision he had to make, he'd finally come to it and it was evident by his entire body language that he would stand by it no matter what the consequences or how much they protested. Which means that it was something to protest. So the assignment was both potentially dangerous and something they would not want to do. This only piqued his interest, and he leaned in to better hear what he was about to say.

"You two are familiar with the recent gang activity in the downtown area by a street gang that calls themselves The Rising Sun?" He asked, leafing non-chalantly through a file of papers, presumably related to the case they were being assigned.

"Yeah, they're the new Asian gang, right? The ones who are selling weapons and heroin?" Alfred answered first.

"Yes. But they also dabble in kidnapping, fraud, and sex slave trafficking. Their leader, Kiku Honda, has recently hired an elusive duo if mercenaries to take out his main competition, Yao Wang of the Red Dragon gang. However, before they could go to meet their employer, they made a rookie mistake and were caught with illegal arms coming through the airport. They assure us that Honda has never seen them or their pictures and has no clue what they look like or how they act." Arthru explained, still thumbing through the papers. Ivan nodded and thought for a moment.

"So this is where we come in? We are to go undercover as these mercenaries and infiltrate the gang to gather information?" He asked, for clarification.

"Yes. You are to collect information over a period of months that has yet to be determined, sompletely immersing yourself in this world. You are to wait for any orders to do anything and you are to act the parts perfectly. Anything we say, you do. And you will report back as soon as it is safe after finding out anything of import. Do I make myself clear?" He paused and pinned them with a stern look until they both nodded. "Good. Also, if you happen to find yourself in a situation where taking out Yao Wang of the Red Dragon is unavoidable, the government will deem your actions necessary and will not take action." He said with a meaningful look at the both of them. _You are to take him out as soon as you get the chance._

"Sounds easy enough." Alfred quipped. But he knew Arthur was hiding something that he didn't want to tell them, it was obvious in the tense way he stood. "So what's the catch?"

"The catch, Detective Jones, is that the two mercenaries are infamous lovers." He said, staring straight at them and daring them to speak out.

They both sat there for long moments, shell shocked and slack-jawed. Lovers? They, the two cops most notorious for hating eachother, had to go undercover as _lovers!_ It was just unreal! It literally couldn't be happening. And yet, looking at the completely serious face of their boss, they could see that it most certainly was and there was little to nothing they could do about it.

Alfred was the first to snap, jumping up out of the chair as if it had burned him. Ivan stayed seated, glowering at Arthur like he'd just told him he'd killed his entire family and was coming back for him.

"Fuck no! I am not pretending to be that Commie's lovebunny! He's probably a fucking pervet who'd molest me in my sleep!" He growled, turning his accusing glare on the Russian, who took the chance to infuriate the blonde more by letting his eyes rove up and down his form in a mockery of an approving leer.

"See what I mean! Ugh! Fucking pervert Russian!" He screeched, diving for Ivan. He was stopped short by Arthur's hand fisting into the back of his jactet and yanking him back.

"Detective Jones, you are going on this assignment and that is that. The Gang Crime unit specifically requested the two of you and you are _not_ going to screw this up. Fo you really want the Chief to find out?" Alfred grew quiet and relaxed in Arthur's hold at the mention of their father. Fuck, that wasn't good. Dad was already on his case about the bruises and cuts he came home with every once in awhile to family dinners. If he found out that he was letting the fighting with his partner get in the way of him doing his job, son or not, he would be off the force.

"Fine, whatever. But only if Braginsky keeps his goddamned hands to himself!" He growled.

"He will do no such thing. You two are to act as if you're hopelessly in love with eachother until either your cover is blown or you are retrieved from your positions. Do I make myself clear?" He growled, fixing him with a glare. Alfred glared back a moment before giving a grudgling nod. Arthur turned his glare to Ivan who, as much as he hated the situation, nodded as well.

"You will spend the next few hours going over everything you need to know before we insert you into your positions. Then you will be sent home to pack and get a good night's rest before Being sent to the rendez-vous point with Honda's grunts. You will not wear wires, you will be issued non-police handguns, and you _will_ act as you are required to. You are dismissed." He said, waving them out of the office with no room for any more discussion on the matter.

They backed out of the office, knowing not to mess with the Captain when he was in one of his moods. But this wasn't just something they could let slide! Not, at least, without a few barbed words exchanged.

"I know you're totally going to get off on making me uncomfortable. So, for the sake of me not ripping your dick off, don't fucking touch me you freak." Alfred snarled, lip curling up in a sneer.

"As if I would want to touch you, whore. Who knows what kinds of diseases you carry? I do not even know if you have had your rabies shot." Ivan replied back with an easy smirk that infuriated Alfred all the more.

"Hey, at least I get some every once in awhile. When's the last time you got laid?" Alfred sneered. "As uptight as you are, it's gotta have been awhile."

"Perhaps you should ask Matvey." Ivan sing-songed, knowing that even if it wasn't true that it would get under his partner's skin. There was nothing the blonde detective loved in this world more than his family.

"Mattie wouldn't touch your nasty commie ass with a ten foot pole and you know it." The other growled, his hands balling into fists. It took all he had not to deck his partner in the face right then and there.

"Perhaps you are right. But then again, it would be bad etiquette for him to pursue his brother's lover." The Russian man was more than slightly disgusted with himself for mentioning that particular part of their assignment, but it had to be done to get Alfred's goat.

"Let's get one thing straight, buster. You're nothing to me. You're hardly even my fucking partner and if I thought for a second the Chief would let me switch and pawn you off on someone else, I would in an instant." Alfred growled, turning on his heel and storming off to gather his things and go home.

Ivan watched him go with something between accomplishment and a vague disappointment. He chose to ignore the latter and set off himself. He had to deliver the bad news to his sisters.

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I edited the shit out of the first part of the chapter. It just felt so rushed and crappy to me. I saw this as a good opportunity to rehaul it. I added some dialogue at the end, too. It seemed like a bad place to end.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred trudged into his apartment looking like hell warmed over. He'd spent the last four hours learning the ins and outs of acting like the mercenary he was conscripted to play. Details and facts ran through his mind like unwanted word vomit for his brain and every time he closed his eyes he saw the pictures of various missions and assassinations he was supposed to have performed. Gruesome and grisly sights, things he never wanted to see. Not that it was that different than any other case he'd ever had in his years on the force. But every case got to him like this. And he was glad, too. It meant he was still human.

His stomach was still churning from the photos and his head was spinning from all the new information. If there was one thing he didn't want to go through right now, it was dinner with his family. Family dinners were loud and exhausting, especially when he had to cook it all beforehand. He couldn't even imagine the epic levels of tired he was going to reach when he had to be up early tomorrow to meet Ivan for their assignment.

Of course, there was no escaping family dinner when it was at your house and the woman who'd basically been your mother since you can remember finally has a chance to visit. There was the real kicker, there. Emily was coming to visit, so there was absolutely positively no way he could ever bail. There wasn't anything on this earth he wouldn't do for Emily Kirkland if she asked, and that included forgoing much needed and wanted rest to spend time with her and the other boys while she was in the City. So he hung up his coat on the peg in the hallway and made his way to the kitchen for some well-deserved coffee.

Only, when he got in there, he wasn't as alone as he'd expected. He barely kept himself from jumping out of his skin as Emily turned around and gave him a short wave before going back to stirring a pot of pasta boiling on the stove. She had her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, and she was wearing a flannel work shirt that completely swamped her petite frame. It looked artsy and rustic on her and Alfred liked to think it was something his own mother would have worn. Of course, Patience Jones probably would have looked more tomboyish than rustic, but it still made him feel like he wasn't missing the most important female figure in his life. Kind of a sad thought, but Emily was great.

"Emily, what the hell are you doing here? Dinner isn't for another hour and you scared the shit outta me!" He complained, trying not to pout. It was an uphill battle that he lost fast. He was no match for the pout, he was its bitch.

"Al, sweetheart, you may be an adult but please watch your language." She said, smiling sweetly and ignoring the question. It wasn't unusual for her to do that, mostly because she was used to Alfred constantly asking questions about everything. As a child his favorite words had been who, what, when, where, why, and how. With his brothers just unable or unwilling to answer his questions and his father being gone most of the time, the job of fielding and answering all of those questions had fallen mostly to Emily.

"Emily! You didn't answer the question!" He whined, heading over to the fridge to see what he could help with. It was common knowledge in the family that if Emily showed up early on family dinner night, you probably wouldn't do any of the cooking yourself. Not that it was a bad thing, Emily was awesome at mom stuff like cooking and band aids and stuff. And it certainly helped when it was Arthur's turn to cook. He was a great police chief and all, but a sous chef he definitely was not. He may be Emily's biological son, but he inherited none of her nurturing nature or cooking ability.

"That's because you already know why I'm here, dear." She laughed, ruffling his hair as she passed. "Now set the table and get a salad ready, will you? I just have to cover the sauce and put the bread sticks in the oven and then we'll have some time to catch up before the rest of the boys get here. Is your father coming to dinner?" She asked, rummaging through the cupboards for a cover for the saucepan.

"No, dad's got something going on tonight. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with work, though. He usually only misses family dinner to see one of his call girls when he really really likes her or one of us has made him mad. He's kinda lukewarm about this...Daisy chick and last time I checked none of us had been too out of line. So he's probably catching up on paperwork or something." He joked. Sam's womanizing ways were somewhat of a running joke within the family and their closest circle of friends.

Emily laughed again, grabbing a lid and fitting it over the rim of the saucepan and turning the heat down. "Yes, your father does have a penchant for letting amorous affairs get in the way of common sense." She shook her head rather affectionately as she slid the bread sticks into the oven. One may wonder why Emily, Sam's former lover, was taking the talk of his exploits so well. Well it was simple, Emily and Sam had somehow over the years gone from lovers to something more akin to best friends.

She and Sam had broken it off well before Arthur had been born and he had been the main cause of her divorce, but she often thanked him for that. After her divorce and sending her son to live with his father, she had more time to work on her writing. She was now a best-selling novelist and she and Sam got along much like two old college friends, citing him as the reason for her success. She often joked that if he hadn't ruined her life, she wouldn't have one.

Alfred snatched two sodas out of the fridge and tossed one to Emily, who caught it out of the air like a ninja. The woman had some seriously leet skills. When Alfred was a kid he'd been convinced that she was a ninja and had convinced Matthew as well. Francis and Arthur had played along because they thought it was funny and Emily herself never said anything to the contrary. Their father, on the other hand, was less than thrilled with their game and had told them in no uncertain terms that Emily wasn't, in fact, a ninja. She had countered by coming in the door and catching his coat just as it fell and winking at Alfred behind his father's back, pressing a finger to her lips in a 'shhh' motion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, even as an adult, he still wanted to believe she was a ninja.

"So what brings you to Metropolis this time, Em?" He asked, making his way to the living room and dive-bombing onto the couch. Emily followed after and sat, much less dramatically, in a chair across from him while they waited for the food to cook. They both popped the tab on their sodas and sat in silence while Emily took a sip and composed her reply. She looked like it was something she didn't really want to talk about, but Alfred knew from the look on her face that this was one of those times when she would indulge him and answer the question. He just prayed it wasn't something as horrendous as the news he'd gotten earlier about his mission with Braginsky.

"I'm...looking for Matthew's mother." She finally said after a long pause, immediately picking up her soda again to give her time before Alfred started asking questions. Either it worked, or Alfred was too shocked to really think of anything other than the fact that Emily was actively persuing a woman who had abandoned his younger brother only days after giving birth to him. They hadn't seen hide or hair of her since then and any searches for information always left them as empty handed as when they'd started. Eventually they stopped looking, to spare Mattie's feelings.

"But...why?" He finally asked, voice small and quiet. He didn't want to think about Stephanie Williams or what she did. He didn't want to think about those half-remembered images of a soft voice and warm hands wiping away his tears. Until he was two, Stephanie had been the only mother he'd ever known. In some ways, her disappearance had hurt him more than Mattie. Because, unlike Mattie, he could at least remember something about her. And he sure as hell remembered all those nights staying up with Mattie way after bedtime because Dad was gone and Arthur and Francis hadn't come home from parties yet, telling Mattie everything he knew about her over and over again because the younger boy never got tired of hearing about his mom. He'd been so sure when he was little that she'd come back for the both of them, that she'd cook and clean and take care of them. He'd even been convinced that when she came back Dad would stay home more and they could be a real family. But as time wore on they grew up and realized it just wasn't happening. She wasn't coming back, she didn't want to. Mattie had given up hope first but Alfred...he had wanted so badly to have a mom again.

"Now, that, I can't tell you." She said, pressing a finger to her lips and winking. Alfred raised a skeptical eyebrow. Did Emily think he was still the naive 8 year old she had convinced that she was a secret ninja? He was a detective now, for Pete's sake, he wasn't going to fall for the "it's a secret" trick. Emily smiled sadly, something in her eyes making him wish he hadn't asked the question in the first place.

"I guess you're too old for that tired trick, aren't you, love?" She said, patting him on the head and getting up from the chair to check the food. It was a technique she's employed many times to let Alfred know that he wasn't getting any more answers from her. And, for once, he didn't think he wanted any. The look in her eyes had struck something in him. She looked so sad, like someone had told her something that was going to happen and she was powerless to stop it.

He sat there for a long time, mulling over the information in his head. He didn't say anything, didn't go after Emily. He didn't want to know anymore. He wasn't even sure he'd want to know if she found Stephanie. Did he really want to see her again after what she'd done? She'd abandoned Mattie. She'd abandoned him.

He didn't move from his spot on the couch until he heard the door open and the unmistakable tones of his oldest brother greeting their surrogate mom.

"Ah, Emily! How good to see you, _ma chere!_" He cried, taking her arms in his and kissing both of her cheeks. "You will sit by me tonight, non?" He laughed, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her back into the kitchen.

"Hello, Francis dear. It's been so very long. I'd love to sit by you, you can sit on the opposite side of me from Arthur." She acquiesced, patting his hand and returning to the pasta as Francis hung his coat up and trotted into the living room to greet his little brother.

"Alfred! _Mon petit soleil_! How have you been? You never call big brother anymore!" He tutted, drawing up the younger man into a suffocating but well-meaning hug. "Have you forgotten me in your rise to fame? Now that you are an illustrious detective being sent on an undercover mission, have your forgotten who helped to raise you?" Francis whimpered, lip wobbling.

"Come on, Frenchy, get offa me." Alfred huffed, pushing at his brother's arms. But despite his dutifully kept appearance of weakness, his grip was like a vice. "I didn't forget you, I've just been busy. Anyway, you're here now, aren't you? Now get offa me and go...help Em with dinner or something."

"Ah, _cheri_, you wound me! My own little brother, my flesh and blood who I painstakingly looked after day after day, hour after hour, slaving away to make sure you had food and that your homework was always done, my own little sunshine, the light of my poor little life, does not want to consort with me! What is there in life for me to live for anymore?" He cried. Like, really. Alfred saw him actually tear up. It was more than a little embarrassing.

Luckily, right at that moment Matthew let himself in quietly, but not quietly enough to escape Francis' attention. Dropping Alfred to the floor unceremoniously, the eldest of the brothers waltzed over to the youngest and caught him up in a hug much less dramatic and suffocating than the one he'd given Alfred.

"Mathieu, so good to see you. I was wondering if you would perhaps not make it and skip out on us as you did last time." He sniffed, patting the boy's head.

"_Je suis desole, frere_." Matthew replied, ducking his head with a bashful and apologetic smile. Mattie was never one for many words, except when you got him really mad. And even then he shut up pretty quick if you looked at him.

"Don't give the boy a hard time, you Froggy bastard." Arthur grumbled as he trudged into the apartment, snow still sticking to his boots. Despite his appearance of grouchiness and the harsh words used, everyone knew that at this point the insults thrown between the two older of the brothers were more affectionate than anything.

"Ah, rosbif, if it isn't my favorite brother." Francis sniffed sardonically, despite the truth in those words. Francis and Arthur were about as close as Alfred and Mattie, though in completely different ways. You just had to...look a little harder for the older men's affection.

"Nice to see you too, pervert." Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. It was so normal, so typical of their family gatherings, that Alfred almost forgot everything that had happened over the course of this long day now made to feel considerably shorter with the company of his family.

It wasn't until later, when everyone had gone home and Alfred was all alone in his bed, that he remembered exactly how shitty tomorrow was going to be.

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Ivan wasn't in much better shape than Alfred had been by the time he finally got home. All he really wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget all about what had happened today until he inevitably had to wake up and face the music. Of course, when you lived with two sisters you could rarely simply go straight from work to bed, no matter how long or tiring your shift had been.

He was greeted at the door by his 9 year old sister Natalia, who had clung to him as soon as he came through the door. She was a needy child, she had abandonment issues tied in with their parent's deaths. She was so scared that her siblings would die too and leave her all alone that she rarely gave them breathing space while they were at home. She had been so young when Mama and Papa had died in a car crash, almost too young to remember. Sometimes Ivan wondered if they should have stayed in Russia and if it would have made any difference in Natalia's development.

"Brother! You're home!" She had cried happily, latching onto his arm and babbling away about school and homework like she usually did. He nodded and made a comment here and there where it was appropriate, but he wasn't really listening all that intently. Until Natalia mentioned that she had a new friend. His attention snapped to her and he grinned, picking up the little girl and swinging her around. She giggled and held on, face lighting up in a brigth smile. Natalia hadn't made any new friends since they'd come from Russia three years ago and the doctors said that making friends at school could be a big development for her on the road to her recovery.

"And what is your new friend's name, Natasha?" He asked as he set the girl back down, patting her on the head. He was so proud of her, making friends hadn't been easy for her. What children were willing to look past her accent and where she came from didn't respond as well to her mood swings, clingy nature, and penchance for violence. If she could find a friend that was willing to look past all that, maybe she would have a chance to grow up to be a healthy adult.

"His name is Toris! He's from Lithuania. That's close to Russia, right? I couldn't find it on the map." She said, leading her brother by his hand into the kitchen where htier eldest sister, Yekaterina, was making dinner. He smiled at his older sister, who smiled back and returned to watching the pot. Katyusha had stepped in a great deal for their mother after the accident: cooking, cleaning, and taking care of them. But, though she tried to keep a chipper front going for their sakes, she was prone to fits of crying. She was easily emotionally overwhelmed and even simple set backs in her daily routine could cause her to burst into tears and insist she wasn't good at anything and that she'd ruined everything. Her therapist said it was because she didn't have another outlet fo her grief. But while he loved his older sister and would like nothing better than to see her get better, it wasn't the kind of environment a child like Natalia needed.

"Da, Natasha, Lithuania is near Russia. I will show it to you on the map in my office later. Would you like that?" He asked, pulling out the girl's chair for her and kissing his other sister on the cheek in greeting. "Privyet, Katusha. How was your day?" He asked, immediately setting to work, helping Katyusha with the food preparation and setting the table. He always tried to lighten his sister's work load, no matter how bad a day he'd had. He remembered one time when he had come home fresh after his first suspension for fighting with his partner to find Katyusha literally crying over spilt milk. He had immediately forgotten about the scrapes, cuts, and bruises as well as the wound to his pride and cleaned the milk up.

"It was wonderful, brother. Did you hear about little Toris?" She asked, obviously as excited about their sister's progress as he was.

"Da, I did. I would like very much to meet this boy. However, I have some bad news." He said, sitting down as Katyusha moved to put the food on the table.

"Vanya! Could it at least wait until we have eaten? You know Natalia does not eat her food after bad news. She needs her strength." Katyusha scolded lightly. Ivan nodded and kept quiet while Katyusha served them and Natalia babbled on about her new friend, eyes darting over to her brother every once in awhile like she suspected he would be leaving soon and wanted to beg him not to leave.

The meal was spent mostly conversing quietly about trivial things that wouldn't matter a few weeks from now. It was how it always was when one of them had big news. They would ignore that it was there until the meal was finished, sometimes drawing out the length of the meal to avoid talking about it. Before Ivan had broken the news that they were moving to America, they had spent almost two hours silently making every bite of food last as long as possible to delay the inevitable.

But finally they could delay the end of the meal no longer and Katyusha rose from her seat, collecting the plates and setting them in the sink so that she could do them later. Probably right after Ivan broke the news about his assignment. She tended to drown her sorrows in house work, another reason that slips ups in her chores were most likely to end in bouts of crying. Ivan sighed, knowing he had to wait for his older sister to give the green light. When she sat back down and graced him with a sad smile, he knew that it was time.

"I have been given an assignment." He said simply, staring at the wall above Natalia's head. The girls hung on his words, waiting for the details, waiting for him to break some sort of life changing or horrifying news. Was it dangerous? Was he sick? Why did he look so solemn. "I have been tasked with an undercover job. I will not be coming home perhaps for weeks. If something goes bad I could be gone for weeks." The 'or not come back at all' was, as it always had been, ignored. Neither girl wanted to think of their brother dying.

"No!" Natalia shrieked, face twisted in pain and anger. "No you can't go! You promised you wouldn't leave me! You promised!" She screamed, getting up from the table and knocking her chair over. She stormed out of the room, leaving her two older siblings to stare after her in shock. Ivan was the first to rise from his place at the dinner table, muttering something to Katyusha before running after his little sister. God dammit, he knew something like this would happen.

He found Natalia in her room, curled up her her bed sobbing. He knocked lightly on the already open door, wincing as angry eyes were turned on him. "What do you want?" She demanded, eyes already red.

"Natasha I just want to talk." He said softly, approaching the bed. Natalia eyed him warily, but didn't halt his progress. He could only hope that it meant that she was in the mood to negotiate. "Natasha, I am not leaving you. Not forever." He soothed, placing a hand on her back. She didn't scoot away from him, and he took it as a good sign. "I love you with all my heart, Natasha. You are my sister and I wish for nothing but your happiness. But I cannot always stay here with you. Remember when you first started school here in America?" He paused, allowing the girl to confirm that she remembered with a nod. "You were so scared to be away from Katyusha and I. You thought that if you left home for school that you wouldn't know if we were safe. Remember what I did?" Natalia nodded and got up off the bed, crossing the room to get a white wooden jewlry box. When she sat back down on the bed she opened it. A soft, tinkling melody drifted out as a ballerina in a blue tutu made of a small scrap of actual cloth rotated around. She rummaged around in the music box for a second before drawing out a silver chain with a small cornflower pendant. Cornflower's were both Natasha's and their late mother's favorite flower.

The pendant had been a gift from Ivan for her first school year in America. Katyusha had said she was too young for jewelry and maybe she was right, but he wanted her to have something that she could look at and remember. He had found it by chance while coming home from work one day. A local vendor had been hawking her wares on the street and the pendant had been one of the items she was selling. It was well-made, but rather cheap. He had gotten it off the woman for 10 dollars and brought it home. He had given it to her with a promise.

"You said that whenever I was scared to be alone that I should wear this necklace and Mama would be with me in spirit and that wherever you were you and Katyusha would thinking of me and loving me." She said quietly, turning the tiny flower over in her hand. Ivan too the necklace from her and undid the clasp. He brushed her hair to the side and slipped the necklace over he neck and fastened it.

"That's right. And then you went to school and it wasn't so scary, you even said so yourself. There was never any reason to be afraid in the first place. And after awhile, you weren't scared anymore so you stopped wearing the necklace." He brushed the hair back into place, combing his fingers through it soothingly as his little sister shook. He gathered her tiny body into his lap, holding her close as she cried. "And now you will wear it again while I am gone. And Mama will be with you wherever you go. And Katyusha and I, as well. And soon I will be home and everything will be normal again and you will wonder why you were ever afraid in the first place, da?"

Natalia nodded and Ivan placed a soft kiss on the crying girl's temple, rocking her until she fell asleep.

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Yes, I know that in the last chapter I had Matthew's Mom's name as Mary. But that's only because I forgot I'd already named her Stephanie before the edits to chapter 1. I'm going to keep it Stephanie from now on, though.

Also, I added more of the Jones-Williams-Kirkland-Bonnefoy family shenanigans.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred rubbed his hands together for warmth as they waited outside of an old rundown warehouse in the meat packing district. Around them, the gray darkness of the hours just before dawn crept up on them from all sides. The surrounding buildings were dingy and the shadows cast on them were long, dark, and sinister. Ivan looked unperturbed by the cold, leaning up against a wall and scouting out the area in the hope that any trouble could be seen coming.

Alfred, on the other hand, stood shivering stubbornly some five feet from his partner. They were due for a meeting with the members of The Rising Sun, but they'd been kept waiting for over an hour now in the freezing light of the early morning. They stood as far apart from each other as they could, breathing in their last moments of freedom before they were shackled together like chain gang prisoners.

For the first three minutes they'd done as they were told, standing much too close together and generally acting like they were actually in love. They'd both drawn the line at kissing, but they'd held hands briefly. That was basically as lovey-dovey as either of them were willing to get. But as the minutes ticked by, even that became much too tedious and they broke away. They agreed silently to stand at least arms length away from each other at all times. The only problem with that was that now Alfred was freezing, his teeth chattering and his lips beginning to turn blue.

Ivan was quite enjoying watching the other suffer, but he knew that a proper lover wouldn't let his boyfriend freeze. So he sighed and pushed off the wall, taking pity on him and moving over to draw the American into his arms. Alfred glared up at him and opened his mouth to tell Ivan to get the fuck off him, but Ivan just shook his head and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist. It was a surprisingly comfortable way to stand.

"I would not want you to freeze, my love." He said, looking meaningfully at where the discreet civilian car holding three fellow officers who would watch the exchange. It was their last chance to monitor the two before they left with the gang members and had no further contact with the police until they were extracted from the operation. Alfred sighed heavily and nodded, putting on a brilliant smile that almost floored Ivan. As much as he hated the punk kid, he had to admit that he had a great smile.

"Thanks, babe." He quipped lightly, leaning into his partner and wrapping his arms around his neck. Ivan was warm and it almost made up for having to hug him. Slowly the shivers died down and his face got back some of its color as he pressed himself up against his 'lover'. At this point Ivan was the lesser of two evils and Alfred would gladly take advantage of their ruse to get rid of the cold. Ivan merely placed a hand on top of the shaking blonde's head and let him rest against him.

Just as Alfred was getting comfortable, three men and a woman rounded the corner. They were dressed sharply in well-tailored suits, except the woman. She wore a simple yet elegant black dress that seemed to gather at her curves like a shadow, creating a tantalizing silhouette. Anyone looking on would think they were either business men or spies. On the second count they wouldn't have been too far off, for they were far from business men. Though they would like many people to believe so. The woman was Mei Li, Honda's right hand lady. She wore many hats within the organization: from assassin to spy, liason to other groups, bodyguard and advisor. One of the men was Im Yong Soo, a young inventor whom not much was known about. He seemed to follow Mei Li everywhere she went, so he was thought to be something like her assistant. They were the two highest officers in the entirety of the Rising Sun, Honda didn't trust anyone half so much as he trusted them.

Alfred's eyes widened and he tried to break away from Ivan, but the larger man held him in place. He didn't want to be caught by anyone hugging the stupid commie, even if it would make their ruse seem more realistic. Mei Li smiled at Alfred, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. Or maybe she could see it and that's why she was smiling, it was hard to tell with her. He buried his face in Ivan's scarf to hide the deep blush flaming over his entire face. Ivan chuckled, and petted his hair. Maybe if he was allowed to see this adorably flustered side of his partner more often they would get along better.

"You must be Robert Delacoeur." Mei said, extending a small, dainty hand towards Ivan. That was the name of one of the assassins, who Ivan had been assigned. Robert was an ex Marine from Kansas, a formerly upstanding citizen with nothing on his record and a great love for his country. But even the strongest patriotic love wasn't a match for the first time he'd seen a young Jamie Finnegan. It was love at first site, and Robert was completely taken with him. He hadn't thought twice about following Jamie down the road of temptation, turning his skills as a soldier to his new job as his lover's partner in crime.

Jamie Finnegan had been raised in an Irish mob family in New York, no one ever shielded the young man from the life they lived. From the time he was 16 he started taking jobs of his own, finding that taking the lives of others was somewhat of a talent of his. At 18 he'd met a strapping young Robert, straight off a tour and looking for a new life outside of the Marines. They'd fallen madly in love and Jamie convinced him to join him in his life of crime.

But when Jamie's father found out, he put a hit on Robert. He couldn't stand the thought of his little boy being "corrupted" by this man. They decided that they'd run away together, Jamie leaving behind his family like Robert had left everything behind to be with Jamie. They'd taken jobs in secret to keep going, never allowing their clients to know much for fear of Jamie's father finding them.

Of course, these gangsters wouldn't know any of that. They'd know names and what they did, that's all. Jamie and Robert didn't divulge any other information to clients. They took serious risks just giving out their names. But they'd been forced to learn everything the police knew about the pair before being thrust into this situation. Hey, who cares if it ever came in handy. At least they knew it, right?

Yeah, right.

Ivan shook the woman's hand warmly and nodded. Im Yong was looking at Alfred like he was scouting him out and he didn't quite live up to his standards. He scowled back at the Asian man, who smirked a bit. That seemed to raise his opinion of the 'assassin' a bit. Mei Li watched the whole exchange with tranquil eyes, turning to Alfred as the two men broke eye contact. She extended her hand to him as well, watching him closely as he disentangled himself from Ivan.

"And you must be Jamie Finnegan." Alfred nodded and shook her hand. He had the childish urge to hide behind Ivan just to get away from those eyes of hers. They weren't anything special at first glance, but they were so deep. And they seemed to be much older than the rest of her face, piercing through his soul and seeing everything there. And for a second Alfred thought they were caught. For, surely, this woman must know that they weren't who they said they were.

But if Mei Li knew their secret, she wasn't telling. She merely turned back to her colleagues and nodded, clapping her hands. The two lower ranking men stood to either side of Ivan and Alfred, ushering them around the corner and towards a sleek black car that was parked there for just this purpose. They would be whisked away by the gang members and given their assignment. Or killed and dumped in a ditch. It was hard to tell with these types.

They were shepherded into the car by the two thugs with Im and Mei. Alfred glanced over his shoulder at the car holding three of their fellow officers as they broke what was to be the last contact they had with the rest of the force until they had the information they needed. It felt cold and lonely, being isolated from his family and friends. But when Ivan reached over and squeezed his hand, he didn't feel so alone anymore and he appreciated in a new way just how close they were going to have to stick together if they wanted this to work.

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The car stopped outside of an innocent looking house out in the suburbs. It wasn't any bigger or grander than any of the other houses on the cul-de-sac and absolutely nothing looked out of place. Ivan didn't know if this was the main base or just where they were going to be kept. Perhaps on the inside this seemingly harmless little cookie cutter house was much more sinister.

But no, as they were herded out of the car and into the house it became apparent that there was absolutely nothing out of place in the house. It didn't even look lived in. Ivan turned to Alfred, who looked back at him and shrugged as if to say Just go along with it. What a big help, Alfred. Thanks. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the house, wondering what it's purpose was. He couldn't even spot any guns.

Mei Li was, apparently, in the mood to give them some information. Because as she stepped into the house behind them, she began talking. "This is a safe house purchased by our organization to store those who we have hired until they are no longer of any use to us. You will be staying here until the job is done or until we deem you too have outlived your use." There was no threatening tone in her voice, but the threat was there. She didn't need to make it any more apparent than that.

"But before you get settled in, our leader has given me a task for the two of you to do. To prove that you are capable, nothing more. If you agree we will give you the details and you will be driven to your destination. If you refuse, then we have no more use for you and your contract will be terminated." Once more she said it calmly, but there was no mistaking that the contract wouldn't be the only thing terminated if they were to refuse.

"Give me a moment to discuss it with my partner and we will get back to you." Ivan said, ushering Alfred into the kitchen. Mei Li merely watched them go with impassive eyes, not sending the thugs after them. Ivan turned to Alfred and looked around as if to try and find a way out of the situation. Who knew what they would have them do? If they were sent to kill someone they couldn't be sure that it would be sanctioned once they were done with the mission. But if they didn't do it they would be killed and their mission would be a failure.

"So what do you think, Jamie? Should we do it? They didn't say anything about paying us for the job." He said, perfect American accent in place and looking nonplussed by the whole situation. They had to keep up the act at all times. Not only were Mei and Im in the room just outside the kitchen where they were standing, Ivan had seen cameras set up here and there. They were being monitored and the gang made no attempts to conceal it.

"I don't know, Rob. Drawing too much attention to ourselves could tip my dad off that we're here. That's the last thing we want." He said, leaning up against the table. He knew the dangers of taking another job just as much as Ivan did, but he couldn't say that. He looked to Ivan for answers and support, but was met with the same doubt he himself had. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, making a split second decision for them both.

He pushed up off of the table and walked over to Ivan, wrapping his arms around his neck and grinning up at him. "It could be fun though, baby. When's the last time we took a job for anything but the money. This one'll be for the thrill. And to save our own asses, but still." He laughed. Ivan laughed along, not really comfortable with the position they were in. But he wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist nonetheless.

"You always did have a weird sense of fun, Jamie. But sure. If you wanna take the job, we'll take the job. You know I can't say no to you." He purred at him, winking. He was surprised when Alfred's face actually lit up in a blush, but he didn't show it. Pathetic boy probably just hadn't had someone flirt with him in awhile. He broke away from the embrace but kept one arm looped aroung his 'lovers' waist as they exited the kitchen and rejoined Mei Li in the livingroom.

"I trust you have come to the right decision?" She asked, looking up at them. Alfred was struck again by that overwhelming sense of being seen right through. He took a mental note to be wary of her in the future. If anyone was going to blow their cover, he had no doubt that it would be Mei. He nodded and stepped forward, flashing her a grin.

"We wanna do it, just point us in the right direction and we're ready to go." He told her, puffing out his chest. Ivan had to fight the urge not to laugh. Alfred just looked ridiculous, showboating like this. But it had been obvious in the interviews that Jamie was just as cocky as Alfred himself, so perhaps this would play to their advantage. They had been chosen because their personalities matched the assassins so well and it would be easy for them to take on their roles. There wasn't time for other agents with dissimilar personalities to be briefed and deployed.

"There is a night club owner, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He is under our protection, but has not payed his insurance payment this last month. We are not asking you to kill him. In fact, we ask you to avoid such measures if at all possible. We merely wish for you to persuade him to pay his bills. It would be a shame to lose such a fine businessman." She told them, hands crossed in her lap and eyes boring into them once more.

"I think we can do that. Right, Rob?" He asked, cocking his head to the side and imploring Ivan to agree. Ivan nodded and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen. Mei Li gave a small smile and rose from her seat, bowing to each of them.

"Then I will take my leave of you. A driver will come around tomorrow to pick you up and take you where you need to go. Once you are done you will be brought back here where Im Yong will be waiting here to inform you of the date you will be meeting with our leader to be briefed on your main job. Good day, gentlemen." And with that she left, Im Yong and the two other thugs trailing after her.

Ivan and Alfred were left alone in the house, but they still couldn't let their guard down. Ivan thought of how to inform Alfred of the cameras without alerting whoever was watching that they weren't who they said they were. He opted for pulling Alfred into his arms and leaning in close with a smirk on his face as if he were about to kiss his lover now that the company was gone.

Alfred almost panicked as he was grabbed. Ivan came closer and closer and Alfred was sure he was going to kiss him! He tried to wriggle away, but Ivan held him fast. Then all of a sudden his partner's lips were to his ear and he was whispering to him. He shuddered slightly (from the cold, god dammit!) as Ivan's breath ghosted over the shell of his ear, but he suppressed it.

"We are being watched. Do not look now, but there are cameras in at least this room and the kitchen. It would be beneficial to keep up the act." He whispered the information to him as if it was sweet flirty nothings. Alfred got the gist of it and leaned into the embrace, giving a little smirk of his own as if in answer to the things Ivan wasn't really saying.

"Alright, then. But let's hope the bedroom isn't bugged. That would be awkward." Ivan chuckled. and shook his head.

"It is just like you to joke in a situation like this. Now let us give them a show that will give them no room to believe we are not what we say we are." He said, grabbing Alfred and kissing him hard. It was sudden and startling but so intense that Alfred could feel his knees go weak for a split second.

Alfred's eyes widened and it took everything in him not to fight the other off. He was supposed to be willing to kiss him, no matter how much he hated the man in real life. So he submitted to the kiss, surprised that it was so hot and passionate. He shouldn't be, really. The man kissed like he fought, with everything he had. It would have been easy to get lost in it if it hadn't been Ivan he was kissing.

When they broke apart they were both slightly out of breath, Alfred's glasses askew and his lips red and puffy. Ivan stared at him for long moments, puzzling the younger cop. There was something in his eyes when he looked at him that had never been there before and it made him wonder if Ivan had really wanted to break the kiss all that much.

He pushed the thought out of his head and turned away from him, winking wickedly over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go shower, hotshot. And that's not an invitation." He laughed and sauntered off, unaware that Ivan was watching his movements closely. Especially a certain part of his anatomy.

Ivan sat down in a chair after Alfred had left, slightly shell shocked at what had just happened. He had meant to give him a quick kiss just for the cameras, no matter how disgusted he was. Instead he'd practically tried to eat his face! And when they'd pulled back, Alfred had looked so enticing it had been hard not to kiss him again. What was wrong with him? It had to be the adrenaline of living a double life, or the fact that Alfred was his only option at the moment. There was no other excuse for him lusting after the brat.

He leaned back in the chair, staring out of the window over the neatly manicured suburban lawn and brooded over the events of the day.

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Revisited the backgrounds for the assassins, since the first time I didn't explain it so well. Debating whether or not to bring them in again later, much later.

Next chapter, for those of you who already read this on the kink meme, will see the most changes yet. Because I kind of hate how forced it came out.


	4. Chapter 4

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Alfred leaned up against the shower wall, letting the water pouring from the showerhead wash over him like cleansing rain. Something in him felt the need to be washed clean, as if he'd done something dirty or sinful. Everything else in his was simply confused. The kiss had thrown everything into turmoil and he wasn't sure how to react anymore. So many different feelings, so much he didn't understand. Why had Ivan had to go and do that? It was probably, hands-down, the worst thing Ivan had ever done to him in the 5 years they'd known each other.

He couldn't place what it was, but something about that kiss had gotten under his skin and made him feel...something. He couldn't even be sure what that something was. It was so confusing! He didn't know how he felt about the entire situation. He knew what he should feel, and he wanted to feel that way. He wanted to feel disgusted and resigned to maybe having to repeat it. But while the thought of a repeat performance did indeed make his stomach flip, it wasn't flipping the way it was supposed to. He ran a hand through wet hair that was more tan now than it's normal color. What was wrong with him? He didn't actually _like_ the kiss, did he? It was absurd.

But the nagging voice in the back of his mind snickered at him, reminding him that he hadn't exactly disliked it, either. And he hadn't been the one to break it, either. He could argue that he had been about to when big nose had beat him too it, but it was useless. You could fool anyone in the world, but you couldn't fool yourself. He hadn't even been thinking of ending the kiss. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind for a second, he was too busy striking the perfect balance between the disgust he should feel and the desire to tumble into the nearest bed with his partner. His fucking _partner_! Not only was he thinking about sleeping with someone he hated, he was thinking of sleeping with someone he worked with! If that wasn't the dumbest idea ever, he didn't know what was.

Wait, when did this go from thinking about the kiss to sex? Sure, he hadn't gotten any in awhile. But was that really an excuse to look for it anywhere he could get it? Besides, sex with Braginsky would be totally sick, right? ...Right? He tried not to think about it, not to imagine imagining how the explosive relationship that made their fights famous in the department would translate into the bedroom. But everyone knows that the more you try not to think of something, the more you think about it. And Alfred had a very active imagination that could conjure up just about anything.

_Ivan growled, sinking his teeth into Alfred's neck in retaliation for the bright red scratches the younger man had left on his back. "Behave, Fredka, or I will have to punish you." He smirked, lapping at the spot soothingly as he aimed a particularly sharp thrust into him. Alfred gasped and pulled at the tuft of silver hair twisted in his fist._

Alfred panted lightly, his hand sliding over his erection. It felt sick and wrong to react like this to thoughts like that. But here he was, desire for the last person on Earth he expected coursing though his veins and touching himself. He hadn't realized he was at first, too transfixed with the mental images causing the reaction to realize he was doing it until he was already hard and aching. He pressed up against the tile and spread his legs a bit wider as he conjured up the mental image again. He moaned as quietly as he could manage and stuck a few fingers in his mouth to get them good and wet before slipping them one by one into himself while simultaneously stretching himself out.

He panted and whimpered as he thrust the fingers into himself, imagining that it was his older partner's cock slamming into him. He was so hard already, but the thought of the larger man overpowering him and overwhelming him made his whole body feel hot. He always found himself with an erection every time Braginsky managed to best him in one of their fights, but he'd always passed it off as an involuntary reaction caused by the fight or flight response. But maybe he really did just want to screw the living daylights out of him. That was fine, you didn't have to get along with someone to have sex. Look at his dad, he didn't love every woman he slept with. It was perfectly fine to be attracted to someone you hated, maybe even to be expected.

He redirected his train of thought, wondering how he'd managed to trail off on a tangent in the middle of masterbation of all things. He reconjured up a nice mental image, this time on his knees with Ivan behind him and his wrists bound to the headboard. He moaned, a little bit louder than he intended, and bucked onto the fingers between his legs. He was so close to completion, muscles tensing as his body prepared for release and a tight, hot feeling pooling in his nether regions. The mental porn video playing on the screen of his mind freeze-framed on an image of Ivan, violet eyes dancing wickedly and a predatory smirk twitching at his lips.

Alfred exploded, groaning as he shot his load and sank down the shower wall into the tub. He grabbed a washcloth, panting heavily with eyes still half mast, to wash himself off while the water still pouring from the showerhead cascaded over him, washing the evidence of his sin away. As he lay there, waiting for the strength of his limbs to return, he thought more on the subject. He would acknowledge now that he wanted Ivan, there was no reason not to. He was attractive and physical, definitely Alfred's type. The only question was whether or not he should persue it. Ivan hated him as much as he hated Ivan, that was a fact. And if he didn't want Alfred the way Alfred wanted him, then any attempts by Alfred to seduce him would end not only in no sex, but probably with Alfred missing a few limbs.

Another option was to convince Ivan that they needed to sleep together to keep up the ruse and be convincing fake lovers. This would work with or without reciprocal lust from Ivan. But if the kiss from earlier was any indication, the desire wasn't onesided. Ivan wanted to fuck him, and he was going to get what he wanted. Alfred stood up and turned off the water, stepping out of the tub and wrapping the towel aroun his waist. He grabbed his clothes to put them back on so that he didn't have to walk past Ivan in nothing but a towel, but immediately tossed them in the hamper and strolled out of the bathroom.

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Ivan had been frozen in the chair he had sat down in soon after the kiss that should never have happened. What he needed was a drink, but the liquor cabinet was locked and he didn't know where the key was or what Mei Li and Im Yong Soo would do if he broke it to get in. He didn't want to think about how soft Alfred's lips had been or how his ass had swayed so invitingly as he'd minced off. And to take a shower, of all things. The reminder that Alfred was behind the bathroom door, wet and naked, was not what he needed. What he needed was a cold shower of his own and a few shots.

What he _definitely_ didn't need was Alfred strolling past in nothing but a towel, showing off that bare, damp flesh just when he was struggling hardest with temptation. God was testing him, seeing if he could weather the desire when what he wanted was dangled in front of him. But he was stronger than that. He ignored the man, crossing his legs to hide his shame and swallowing thickly. He would not give into the temptation to slam the wanton little brat againt the wall and show him what happens when you expose your body like that.

But Alfred wouldn't be satisfied just knowing that Ivan wanted him. While the satisfaction of knowing his state of undress was driving the other man crazy was very satisfying, it wasn't what he wanted. So he decided he would make a bold move and if Ivan asked, it was part of the ruse. When Alfred wanted something, there was no stopping him. He climbed into the Russian man's lap and linked his arms behind his neck. "I think I know how to make this a bit more realistic." He purred into his ear, delighted at the shiver he could clearly feel go up the other's spine. Oh yeah, he was smokin'.

"Alfred, what are you doing!" He hissed, looking around in a panic and trying to find a way out of this without making it seem to whoever was watching them that they were lying about being intimate with eachother. He wanted this, oh _God_ he wanted this. But that's all it was: Desire, lust, want. It wasn't love, certainly not with this asshole. And what was sex without love? Merely a way to feel good for a small while before everything went back to the way it was before, except with more risk for disgusting diseases.

"I'm horny, you're my only option, and it's certainly going to blow any doubts that we are who we say we are out of their minds. So come on, big guy, rock my world." He taunted, kissing him hotly. He wasn't sure why he was so okay with the sudden realization that he wanted Ivan and wanted him now, but who was he to ask questions? It aided his endgame and he got what could possibly end up being great sex out of it. Or he could get really bad, awkward sex out of it. But still, sex.

Ivan, meanwhile, was getting lost in the heat of those kisses. It seemed real, the passion at least. Alfred may not love him, but he certainly wouldn't object to the things Ivan had just been thinking of doing with him. It was an opening to a chance that he might not ever get again to have this live young man underneath him, begging for him. If Alfred was the type to beg. And somehow Ivan didn't think he was. It was too bad, it would be quite attractive. And maybe they would get along better after resolving the sexual tension. Lord knew they needed to straighten out whatever made them fight so much before it ended up blowing their cover. One night couldn't hurt anything, right?

...Right?

Ivan made up his mind in that fraction of a second, scooping Alfred up and hauling ass up the stairs to the bedroom. He tossed the blonde onto the bed and leered at him as the towel slipped off of his lower body, exposing him fully to the Russian's predatory gaze. It sent nice tingles up and down Alfred's spine, being looked at that way. He smirked back and gazed at the other man with dark, seductive blue eyes. "Are you gonna stand there all day staring, hotshot? Or are gonna come over here and get me?"

Ivan made up his mind in that fraction of a second, scooping Alfred up and hauling ass up the stairs to the bedroom. He tossed the blonde onto the bed and leered at him as the towel slipped off of his lower body, exposing him fully to the Russian's predatory gaze. It sent nice tingles up and down Alfred's spine, being looked at that way. He smirked back and gazed at the other man with dark, seductive blue eyes. "Are you gonna stand there all day staring, hotshot? Or are gonna come over here and get me?"

That was all the invitation Ivan needed to cross the room and force Alfred down onto the bed, pinning his wrists and kissing him hard. He could feel the younger cop's toned body through his clothes and he longed for more. More contact, more skin. He sat back, removing the button up shirt and jeans that he had been told to wear. His usual atire would have been too out of place for him to be allowed to wear it. It was a good thing, though, because he usually wore many more layers and it would have delayed the moment of bare skin sliding over bare skin, lips locked and bodies entwined.

Alfred arched against him like a cat in heat, their erections sliding over each other and making both of the men feel like their blood had turned into electricity. Neither of them felt that they could wait any longer. It was like the desire burning through them was a real fire, set to consume them if they waited too long to slake their thirst for eachother. Alfred blindly reached up, groping wildly at the bedside table for the handle to the drawer. He held the kiss as long as he could, but broke it off to search with his eyes rather than just his fingers. He found what he was looking for and handed it to the man attacking his neck with love bites just a bit to harsh. But that was just the way Alfred liked it.

"Are you sure you're ready for this already?" Ivan asked in reference to the lube. He himself was already past the point of foreplay, but he didn't want to skip it. Not if Alfred didn't give the go ahead, it would be rude. But Alfred just nodded his head, nipping Ivan's lower lip before sealing them with a kiss. "Did most of the work in the shower. Just lube up and we can skip the prep." He said. But then a wicked grin crossed his face and he plucked the lube out of Ivan's hand. "Or I can do it for you." He popped the cap off the bottle and squirted some of the gel into his hand, reaching for Ivan's erection. He glided his hand up and down the shaft, spreading the lube over it. He looked up at Ivan, a devilish look in his eyes. To Ivan, he couldn't have looked more wanton or fuckable if he was bent over a table, begging.

He tangled his fingers in Alfred's hair, pulling him up by it to kiss him. Alfred apparently wasn't adverse to the rough treatment, making a small aroused noise in the back of his throat as he was hauled up. Nice to know he didn't have to be gentle with him. He had no intention of going soft on the little punk just because they were having sex. He was pretty sure that would leave them both unsatisfied, anyway. Like an argument as opposed to a fist fight.

Alfred's hand continued stroking and playing with his member. He growled into the kiss, making it more agressive and completely overpowering Alfred. He pushed him down on the bed and pinned him there, biting and sucking at his neck in a way that made the younger man moan so invitingly. He leaned back, observing his partner. Flushed, panting, naked, and practically begging to be fucked. The only thing missing was actual begging, but they could work on that later, if there was a later. For now, it was time to get down to business.

"Spread your legs, blyad." He told him, voice low and gravely. Alfred did immediately as he was told, partly because he wanted this to go down as soon as possible and partly because being ordered around in those sexy bass tones was as arousing as hell. He was rewarded almost instantly as Ivan grabbed his hips and thrust in, not even giving him a moment to adjust as he began his rough rhythm. Alfred silently sent up a prayer or thanks that he'd prepped himself in the shower, lessening the pain to a degree that took it from unbearable, to just enough to put an edge on the pleasure. He liked it rough, afterall. And he'd never really expected this jackass to be gentle.

From that point on it was less a joining of their bodies and more like a full scale war between the two. Alfred would bite down into Ivan's shoulder to muffle a grunt of pleasure as his prostate was struck, Ivan would retaliate by digging his fingers painfully into Alfred's hips. Alfred would pull his hair and Ivan would slam his head against the bed. For every blow there was a return shot and by the time Alfred felt himself near peaking, he was covered in bruises and bite marks. But as painful and hate-fueled as the sex was, it was the best he'd ever had. There was a kind of thrill in letting go of any inhibitions and causing pain at your own will. And receiving the blows in return just meant that his partner was as into it as he was.

Alfred cried out, pulling harshly at silver strands as he came hard between their intelocked bodies. He felt a warm rush in his gut and another inside where Ivan had followed him to the edge of completion and emptied himself inside of him. He styaed like that for a few mintues more, coiled around Ivan like a tense snake, before slowly disentangling himself and relaxing back onto the bed.

"That was..." He said, panting bearthlessly, unable to find quite the words to describe it.

"Yes..." The Russian man agreed, collapsing onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"Wow." Alfred let out in a rush of breath. That really had been incredible. If he thought fighting with the guy was satisfying, this was a whole new level.

"Yes." Ivan agreed again, not really knowing what else to say. "We should rest now. There is a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Alfred nodded and rolled over, diving under the covers and snuggling down. He expected Ivan to do the same, sticking to his own side of the bed with his back to his American counter part. But instead the taller man moulded his body to Alfreds and draped his arm over his waist. Alfred wasn't sure he was comfortalbe with spooning with the guy, but Ivan merely shook his head and yawned. "They may still be watching. Besides, you are warm and it is a cold night."

Alfred took the logic as good enough and shrugged, nuzzling into his pillow and sighing contentedly. He'd slept in more uncomfortable places before. And besides, it was kind of reassuring to have someone with him. Maybe it would help him sle-...

Before he could finish the thought, he was already drifting off into dreamland still held fast in Ivan's arms.

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There was just…no way to save this chapter from being a blatant act of pandering to the readers. It doesn't fit in the story and I hate it. But because it's already been posted and there's no way to put a chapter or two in between this one and the last, it stays in.

Also, as a warning, don't expect daily posts anymore. This is where the posting edited versions of what I've already written ends and the real work begins.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow it's been a really long time since I've updated this story! I'll be really surprised if anyone even still reads this lol I had it half typed up on my laptop for months with no intention to finish it or even an idea as to how to go about it. Then all of a sudden 'poof'

Probably because I do my best work when I'm completely miserable and I recently discovered that there's absolutely no hope of me going to college this year.

So look for more fic in the future, probably euo

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Alfred awoke the next morning to a cold, empty bed and an already voided indentation where Ivan had slept the night before. Usually this might be a cause for concern, but Alfred was more than happy that his bed-mate had left before he'd waken up. It saved an awkward morning-after conversation and the inevitable argument that would ensue. He was sure that the intense level of sheer discomfort would be so hilariously obvious that whoever was watching them would be able to see it right through the cameras.

As it were, Alfred had time and room to stretch out in the bed and roll himself in the blankets in an effort to cling to the warm drowsiness of the first few moments after waking up. He was like a cat in a bed of catnip, rolling and twisting around in the sheets in languid idleness. He felt warm and fuzzy under the cozy sunlight dancing through the slits in the curtains that lay across the bed in long bars. It was as if he was viewing the world through the warm haze of sleep-drunken stupor.

At long last, when he could stay in bed no longer, he disentangled himself from the sheets and slipped out reluctantly. Padding across the wooden floor, he rubbed tired blue eyes and made a beeline for the bathroom. He hadn't had a chance to check the house out last night, but he at least knew where the can was. He instinctively reached to where his toothbrush would be if he were in his apartment, only for his hand to close on empty air. Growling quietly, he looked around the sink for any sort of dental hygiene products.

He found two toothbrushes; one red, one blue. The red one was still damp and a small amount of toothpaste stuck to the handle directly below the bristles. That was fine with Alfred. Red was a Commie color and Ivan could have it. Blue was his favorite, anyway. He had the fleeting urge to dunk the red brush in the toilet and then never ever tell Ivan, but that would be childish; even if it would be _so sweet_ to know that every day he was brushing his teeth with a potty brush.

He pushed the thought away, grabbing the blue toothbrush and dabbed some toothpaste on it, sticking it in his mouth as he checked the cabinets for floss. Finding none, he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out with water. No floss and no mouthwash. This was unacceptable! He couldn't live in a world where he was forced to forgo flossing. He would have to make a trip to the store as soon as possible and pick up the essentials. Nothing was more important than good dental hygiene.

The shower stood in a corner of the room, taking up most of the space but still seeming unobtrusive. It beckoned to him like a siren, the dirt of the day before and the icky feeling he got from touching Ivan eating at his skin like an acid. But as he looked out of the bathroom door and into the bedroom, he saw on the clock that it was already waning into the afternoon and they had a job to do today. It would be better to just freshen up and get on his way. So after washing his face, brushing his hair, applying roll on deodorant, searching for hair gel and finding none, accidentally hitting the wall, cursing and clutching his hand, stumbling out of the bathroom, changing his clothes, re-brushing his hair after it got messed up as he pulled on his shirt, and applying spray deodorant, he was finally ready to face the day.

He found Ivan in the kitchen munching on a piece of toast almost thoughtfully. Alfred has always taken the larger man for a real meat and potatoes kind of guy, someone who would want something more substantial for breakfast than toast. But after a quick survey of the room, he found that it was for good reason that his partner only had chosen toast for his morning meal. The refrigerator was almost completely empty save for a loaf of bread, a carton of orange juice, and a bag of apples. He sighed, grumbling under his breath about useless thugs who couldn't even stock the fridge and grabbed an apple. As he bit into it, he made a mental list of all the things he would need to pick up while they were out (probably after they beat up that poor, innocent man.)

"This officially sucks." Alfred growled, looking around for the coffee pot, hoping beyond all reason that it was there but knowing he shouldn't hold his breath. He almost fell to his knees and praised the Lord when he found that not only did they have a coffee pot, they actually had coffee! Which was a better thing than anyone knew because if he didn't have his morning coffee there was no way he would have been able to deal with his bullshit partner. Who, by the way, had been staring at him like something out of a freak show since he'd gotten into the kitchen.

If Ivan was staring, though, it was only because he had expected the other man to do something drastic the morning after their little folie-a-deux from last night. For one night he'd completely lost his mind and done something he regretted immensely. He was not one of those men who could engage in one-night stands and leave in the morning unscathed. There had been no feeling in their exchange, no positive feeling anyway. And what kind of existence was that? He felt sick with himself and sick with Alfred.

Alfred, however, was perfectly okay with no strings attached sex. It was kind of his thing, actually. He hadn't been able to hold down a stable relationship for more than a month since leaving high school, it just wasn't in his nature. Arthur said he was allergic to commitment. So while his partner fretted over his bad decision, Alfred was cool as a cucumber. His only real concern was food and dental floss.

"About last night…" Ivan began, wondering how to broach the subject with the younger man. But a hand was held up and Alfred shook his head. He gestures subtly to the cameras and put a finger to his lips.

"Yeah, last night was great. Though I woke up this morning with an aching ass, you dickweed." He teased, though the look in his eyes was less teasing and more accusing. "I can only hope the scratches I left on your back hurt enough for a bit of payback."

Ivan felt the marks Alfred had left on his back like burning trails of shame. He would much rather forget that those were even there, but the little shit had absolutely _had_ to bring them up. It was infuriating to not be able to tell the other that their display last night had been disgusting and shameful and they must never do it again.

"I don't know about that. They don't hurt so bad, you've done worse before." He quipped, feeling disgusted with himself. But the place was bugged and their survival depended on him acting as if their encounter had been run-of-the-mill, something they did every night. He would have to swallow his distaste and keep up this charade for as long as possible.

Alfred liked people to believe that he couldn't read the atmosphere, that he was completely clueless when it came to ambiance. But the truth was that he could read people like books, no matter how hard they tried to hide what they were thinking. And he could tell Ivan regretted what they had done last night.

An unwelcome pang of something unpleasant went through him at the thought and Alfred decided that it must be offense. He'd given Ivan access to the kickin'est body in Metropolis and given him what was probably the ride of his life and he regretted it? That fucking douche! But he had to push past his indignation, for the good of the mission and to save his own ass. Which was really kind of important to him, even if Ivan took it for granted.

He took sips of his coffee through pursed lips, discontent radiating off of him like waves of heat. Ivan could feel them from all the way across the room and he wondered if it was his fault Alfred was being pissy or if it was just because of the lack of supplies. He was willing to bank on it being a combination of the two with Alfred leaning more towards angry at him than angry at the world. But he could care less, Alfred could be as angry as he wanted. It would only mean that he would pursue him no further.

A now-empty cup of coffee was set down on the counter and the silent blonde left the kitchen without even looking in his house-mate's direction. He had nothing to say to Ivan right now and didn't see that changing any time soon. Peeking through the blinds, he saw that there was already a car in the driveway. Opening the door and jogging down the front steps, he looked through the windows to find it completely empty. Mei and Im Yong had probably brought it by while the pair of them were sleeping.

He opened the door and slid into the driver's seat of the black SUV, looking around to see if perhaps anything was amiss. For a fleeting second he wished he had a tracking device, something that could lead them back to wherever the car came from. But that would serve no purpose now other than to track Ivan and Alfred's movements. A frown passed over his face for a fleeting moment before he busied himself with the GPS. Directions had already been punched in, presumably by their employers. They would probably lead them to their target.

He searched around, hands probing every nook and cranny of the dash for any sign of a set of keys. Then, as his hand dipped into the cup holder, he heard a jingle and his fingers brushed cold, ridged metal. He grinned victoriously and took up the keys, shaking them to hear the sweet jingle of victory and crawling back out of the car. Guess who got to drive and guess who had to sit in the passenger seat and shut his trap? That's right, Al was the _king_.

A quick search of the vehicle came up clean with no evidence of bugs or listening devices of any sort. There was, in fact, a tracker attached to the car but that didn't bother Alfred very much. At least he knew there was one place he could be himself without having to watch every little thing he said. Maybe he could tear Ivan a verbal new one once they were en route.

He made his way back into the house with a pep in his step and a whistle on his lips. One-upping Ivan had managed to turn his day around, even if the embers of indignation still smoldered in his gut. But he could set it aside for now to shove it in Ivan's face that he'd found the keys first.

He found his companion in the kitchen, still staring off into space and sipping at his coffee. For a moment anger flared in Alfred's chest once more. Was this motherfucker really so torn up about last night that he had to stare into space like a fucking dead man? Geeze! Alfred had known that Ivan hated him, but this was ridiculous. It takes two to tango. Two. To fucking. _Tango_!

"Yo, Robbie. They left us a car and directions to get where we're goin'. We should probably head out." He said, trying to seem nonchalant and as if everything was normal. Even if he was going to punch Ivan in the face as soon as they were out of sight of these damn cameras.

Ivan nodded, placing his cup of coffee by the wayside and holding out his hand. "Give me the keys, I'll drive." He replied. Alfred laughed, shaking his head. There was no way in hell he was giving the keys over to Ivan.

"Ah, ah, ah baby~ I went out to the car first, I found the keys, so I'm driving." He sing-songed, jingling the keys by the loop in front of Ivan's face before snatching them away just as the other man reached for them. "And there ain't nothin' you can do about it!" He laughed loudly, the sound grating to Ivan's ears, and turned on his heel to exit the kitchen and the house once more.

Ivan followed after him, keeping his eyes trained on the back of the blonde's head, trying to bore holes in it with his eyes. He resented the American. He hated him, everything he was, and everything he stood for. He hated what they had done, how Alfred had somehow managed to rub it in his face without mentioning it once, and that the young blonde didn't seem to regret it at all. But most of all, he hated himself for still wanting the stupid brat so much.

Last night was supposed to have been the one time he gave into temptation. He was supposed to take one bite out of the forbidden fruit and leave it hanging on the tree with no one the wiser. He hadn't expected it to taste so sweet. His young partner burned like acid in his veins, eating away at his resolve. Alfred had poisoned him with every bite and scratch he'd rained down on Ivan's flesh. Now his thoughts were consumed by him, there was nothing else in his mind.

But who could blame him? Alfred was beautiful by any standard. He enchanted Ivan with the mere sway of his hips or the way his lips curled up over his teeth when he snarled out an insult. His strength of body, spirit, and character amazed Ivan even if he would never admit it. It was a wild beauty, untamed and hard to hold onto; overtly masculine, hard as rock and tough as nails. But that was the way Ivan liked it. And he hated, _hated_ himself for it.

Over-confidant steps carried Alfred to the diver's side of the car, the young man slipping like grease into the seat and busying himself buckling his seat belt while his companion folded himself in. Alfred snickered at the sight of his overly-large partner cramped into the SUV, though he wasn't surprised. Their cruiser had always been much too small for the freakishly tall Russian and the SUV was no different.

A heated glare put a stop to the laughter as Alfred put his hands up in surrender and started the car. The engine roared to life, grumbling and growling a steady bass line that quickly faded to a backdrop to the sounds of the world around them. Pulling out of the driveway and checking the GPS, Alfred tried to come up with small talk to fill the heavy silence pressing down on the two of them.

"So...did you sleep well?" He asked, feeling like an idiot immediately after the question left his mouth. He swore up and down inside his head, wondering how he could be so stupid.

"No talking." Ivan growled, no more words needed to shut the younger man up.

The silence continued, hanging over them like an ever-present boulder threatening to crush them. Alfred hated it, he hated silence and everything about it. He would rather be shouting than have nothing said at all. He was so averse to silence there was a physical reaction and he started fidgeting and wriggling in his seat like a five-year-old who had to go to the bathroom.

After minutes of this, Ivan sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Was the boy really so desperate for attention that he would pull childish stunts like this? Of course he was, it was Alfred. It should come as no surprise that he couldn't go five minutes without some form of attention.

"What is it?" He hissed, finally turning to the other. "What do you want from me? Because if you are wanting something to be started because of last night-" He was cut off there as Alfred gave an indignant cry.

"Start something? You think I want to _start_ something with you? You fucking jackass! You think I don't know the difference between one night of hate sex and the start of a fucking relationship? What am I, some kind of chick? Fuck you, man, just fuck you." Alfred snarled, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard the knuckles turned white.

"Then why did you do it! You hate me and I hate you, so why initiate sex!" Ivan cried, gesturing wildly as he yelled. "If it was just to keep up appearances you would not have done it, you would have made every excuse not to sleep with me, so why!"

"Because I wanted to, alright! You're a commie asshole and I hate you, but you're hot and my only option right now. That's all, that's fucking _it_." Alfred growled, teeth bared and face twisted in rage.

Ivan's heart twisted in his chest, an unwelcome and pitiful feeling. He didn't want to feel a jolt of pain in his chest every time Alfred reminded him how much they hated each other, or when he stressed how little it had meant. The pain and confusion turned to rage and he reached out, grabbing the steering wheel in one and and closing the other around Alfred's neck.

"Stop talking, you worthless little shit, and listen to me. You will not touch me again. You will not tempt me with your whore body or touch me while we are in bed. If you do this, I will not kill you." He said, his voice manic and barely above a whisper. It was a cold tone, one that lowered the temperature in the car a few degrees.

Alfred panicked, his hands scrambling at the large hand on his throat. His first thought was that they were going to crash and his second was Holy shit he's trying to kill me! Then, just as suddenly as he'd reached out and grabbed him, Ivan retracted his hand. He fixed him with that frigid glare, the one that Alfred knew meant trouble, and gestured towards his gun.

"Do you hear me, whore?" He asked, voice deceptively calm. Alfred wanted to tell him to fuck off, or to stop calling him a whore, but for the first time ever Alfred was truly afraid of Ivan. The man had always been mental, but this was just another fucking level. If he'd been asked before today if he thought Ivan was capable of murder he would have said no, but now...

"Yeah, asshole. I understand. And don't fucking call me a whore." He shot off, consciously having to stop himself from tensing in fear as he said it. He was lucky and Ivan didn't hit him, but still he didn't say another word. He stared straight ahead, not even peeking out of the corners of his eyes at the man in the passenger seat, a man he thought he knew.

"I am sorry. Would you prefer "slut", since you are not paid for your promiscuity?" Ivan drawled sarcastically and with no small amount of contempt. It stung Alfred and his first instinct was to lash out, but he kept silent. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke Ivan into choking him again.

Soon enough, Ivan fell into a silence of his own and stared off into space out the window. He mulled over the encounter in his own way. He had no clue what had come over him. All he could remember was a black rage hitting him like a brick wall and the next thing he knew he was releasing Alfred's neck. He wished he could say that he'd never done anything like that before, but he knew very well the blind rage lurking beneath his cold, sarcastic surface. Rage formed and compressed in a broken home and solidified in a school system that didn't look favorably upon foreigners, gay men, or the eccentric.

He had thought it had been all under control. He could go to work, maybe rough up a few drug dealers, fight with Alfred, and go home a happy man. His inner monster having been contented by that small period of lashing out. The more time he spent around Alfred, though, confused and disoriented him. A confused and disoriented Ivan was a dangerous Ivan.

The minutes crept by in silence, nothing but the shops lining the city streets taking their attention away from the tight, heavy quiet that pressed on them like a boulder. It gave Alfred creeping feelings and he could swear there were spiders crawling on his arms. It took all he had not to start slapping at them. He couldn't stand silence. He needed noise, sound, something to engage him.

He started humming, just to break the tense silence. Ivan glared over at him, murder in his eyes, but Alfred ignored him. There was no way he was going back to that awful silence, even if the humming was making things between them even more tense and awkward.

Just as Ivan as about to threaten Alfred with violence to make him shut up, they arrived at their destination. The only sign tat Alfred gave that he was angry as he exited the vehicle was the slam of the car door. His face and body language hid his real emotion, a grin on his face and a pep in his step. He didn't know why, but he just felt that Jamie would be one to be chipper when going to beat a poor man senseless for an organized crime family.

Ivan slipped easily back into his own character, knowing that the American accent he would have to fake would taste and feel like tar in his mouth. He hated this country more and more as he spent time around Alfred. He would still rather stay here than go back to Siberia, working as a traffic cop in a small, bitterly cold village out in the sticks.

The place was nice, the paint and sign seemingly new or just very well kept. The black door was roped off with blood red velvet, a red carpet rolling out from the door to welcome in guests lucky enough to gain entry. The sign above said "Chick Magnet" with a yellow bird flapping its wings. Now, however, the signs were dark and the door closed. A lone plastic bag skittered across the pavement, driven by the wind.

The nightclub parking lot was deserted save for a lone silver sports car with a vanity plate that read "AWESOME" and sported a black and white flag Alfred couldn't identify on the antenna. It was the middle of the day and it wasn't really surprising that no one was here. Alfred certainly didn't want to be here. It was too early and he'd been dealing with too much shit this morning to fuck with some sleazy night club owner.

He marched right on over to the door and kicked it in, a grin on his face and a spark in his eye. He thought for an instant that if he hadn't become a cop, he probably could have been an actor. He was so bomb at this.

"Here's Jamie!" He laughed, looking around for his victim. Ivan followed behind him, worried that perhaps Alfred was having a little bit too much fun with this. Alfred was a natural show-off and that, Ivan feared, was what would blow their cover. The boy's naïve show-boating would get them in trouble sooner rather than later.

A lone figure stood in the corner, robed in shadow with only his eyes showing through the gloom. Alfred immediately balked, his superstitious heart almost stopping when he saw the two red pinpricks standing out like sparks in the night. Oh dear Lord, he didn't want to die like this!

Ivan, however, was unfazed and he crossed the room with long strides to stand before the red-eyed man still shrouded in darkness.

"You're Gilbert Beilschmidt, right?" He asked, the drawl of Americana burning his tongue like acid. He vowed to speak nothing but Russian for a week after this was all over.

"That depends who's asking." The man answered casually, the shrug of his shoulders barely perceptible through the gloom. He made no move to exit the shadows, preferring his blanket of mystery. Alfred couldn't shake the idea that he was some form of demon or ancient spirit and that he and Ivan had stumbled onto something they shouldn't mess with. His eyes were red, for Pete's sake!

"Our names are not important. All you need to know is that Mei Li sent us." He answered back just as non-chalantly, as if it was an innocent referral from a friend. The shadowed man stiffened visibly, a light growl issuing forth from his corner.

"If you think I'm going to pay them, you're crazy! I'm sick of their mother fucking bullshit. I don't need to pay some hoity-toity gang members to run my business. And if you think you can come in here and beat it out of me, you better know that I won't go down easy!" The man snarled, launching himself out of the shadows and right into Ivan's face. There was a look of pure hate in his eyes, daring Ivan to try anything.

Immediately Alfred's fears that they were dealing with the supernatural were assuaged and the fear left him in a whoosh filled only by burning curiosity. The man's skin was as pale as paper, his hair completely white. Well that certainly explained the red eyes, now didn't it? He'd never met an Albino before and he was just disappointed that his first encounter had to take place like this.

"Hey, Gil, we don't like this any more than you do." Alfred sighed, his shoulders shrugging and a long-suffering look flitting across his features. "But we got a job to do, just like you do. It's just business." He took a few steps closer, the curiosity taking hold of him now that the irrational fear was gone.

"Did I say you could call me Gil, _arschloch_?" The man sneered, German accent thick on his tongue, his pearly teeth almost as white as his hair and seeming almost pointed in the dim lighting of the deserted night club.

"Well so-rry, _Gilbert_." Alfred drawled back, his own teeth baring in an idle but predatory smile. It was a look Ivan wasn't accustomed to seeing on his partner's face. Even when they fought there was never that easy threat in his eyes, like a lazy panther looking down on a stray cat. A feeling of green jealousy rushed over him. Why would Alfred reserve that look from him? What about this pale, angry man made him so special? A frown came over his face instantly and the psychotic need to possess Alfred's every thought and emotion welled up in him.

Red eyes flicked over to the man in the corner, an amused light coming to life in their depths. "Hey, schatzi, I think your boyfriend over there is getting jealous." He sing-songed, an insufferable smirk that Ivan longed to wipe off sliding onto his smug face.

Alfred cocked an eyebrow and looked over at his partner, snickering almost derisively. "Don't mind him, he doesn't like it when I talk to other guys. Do ya, baby?" He purred, throwing a wink in Ivan's direction. White-hot rage tore at Ivan and it took all of his self-control not to snap.

"Nah, sugar, that ain't it." He answered with a laugh that he hoped sounded easier than it felt. "I just don't like it when we have to waist our time with pissy little vampire Nazis." He shot at Gilbert with a dark, crazed look that had the albino man baulking.

Alfred didn't miss a second of it. What had gotten into Ivan? He'd never given a shit before how he talked to perps or the rest of the guys at the station. Had their tryst opened up a can of worms that should have stayed tightly sealed?

"Let's just get this over with so we can all go home with minimal damage to our internal organs, okay? We don't want to kill you and you don't want to die, so this should work out if you just cooperate." Alfred cut in, bodily putting himself between Ivan and the German man. "Give us the money and I won't have to sick my partner on you. And let me just warn you, you don't even wanna know what he does when I let him off his leash. Got him out of a loony bin." Alfred threatened easily, inspecting his nails.

Gilbert scoffed and reached behind him, backing up and cocking a shotgun in Alfred's face. "Or you can get the hell out of my club." He snarled. Alfred, to his credit, looked almost bored. This wasn't the first time he'd had a gun pointed in his face and heavens-to-Betsy, it wouldn't be the last.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. That thing's not even loaded." He smirked. He'd taken a gamble, bluffing to the club owner's face. It payed off with a moment of hesitation on Gilbert's part and in a flash, Alfred had taken advantage of the chip in his defenses and taken the gun from him. Gilbert swallowed and raised his hand, the barrel of his own gun now pointed in his face.

"Rob, go get the money out of the cash register. If there's not enough there, check the office. There's sure to be a safe. I'm sure Gilbert won't have any problem helping us with the combination. Will ya, Gil?" He asked with an easy, teasing smile.

As Alfred held their unfortunate target at gunpoint, Ivan moved back behind the counter. The cash register, an older model from before everything had gone electronic, yielded it's fruits easily. As Alfred had surmised, however, there wasn't enough left from last night's sales to pay Gilbert's bill. Ivan motioned towards the back, Alfred following his lead with Gilbert in front of him. The barrel of the gun never wavered from it's position directly in line with the club owner's heart.

Something about the way Alfred cooly held an innocent man at gunpoint made Ivan want him even more and it was going to be a struggle, once this was all done, not to throw him up against a wall and fuck him senseless. Ivan was a cold, violent man who appreciated the cold and the violent. Alfred, usually bright and sunny even in his anger, had shown Ivan a side of himself that severely turned him on.

As Alfred held the gun steady at his back, Gilbert dialed in his combination and stepped aside as Ivan took what he owed and shoved it into a bank bag. "That should just about cover it. Thanks for doin' business with us." He grinned, clapping Gilbert roughly on the back. The Albino man swallowed thickly and rubbed his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Alfred.

Al grinned, his pearly whites gleaming under the florescent lighting of the office. "How 'bout you sit right on down there in that chair." He told him, poking him over to the cushy chair in front of the desk. As soon as he seated, he gestured to Ivan without taking his eyes or the gun off of Gilbert. "Honeybunches, be a doll and tie him up for me would ya?" He cooed at Ivan, making kissy faces at him. Said 'honeybunches' clenched his fist in an effort not to clock Alfred upside the head and grabbed a string of lights from the corner and wound them around the pale man, tying them off so he wouldn't be able to wriggle free.

"Don't worry, it's a Friday. Someone'll come along and find you after too long." Alfred quipped, propping the shotgun up against the far wall and giving a jaunty, two-fingered salute before turning smartly on his heel and bouncing out of the room. Ivan followed behind like a shadow, one last demented look shot in Gilbert's direction as he disappeared behind the corner and out of site.

Sitting there tied up under the bright lights of his office with the safe wide open and at least a thousand dollars missing, Gilbert was distinctly glad that that was all they had taken.

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I know I had a plan on what to do after this, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. I shall have to think up a new plot. Or make it up as I go along, as usual.


	6. Chapter 6

Uhh…hi guys! ^^;; Yes, I know it's been more than a year since this has updated and I know nothing can really make up for that. I wouldn't be surprised if no one was paying attention to this story anymore! But I promise you, I'm not abandoning this any time soon! I just had a lot of trouble figuring out where to go with this chapter and once I found my way, I had a harder time sitting down and writing it. Especially since I'm in college now.

But here you go! A brand new chapter with brand new action! It's the longest chapter yet and probably the most important.

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As they stepped out of the dim shroud of shadows that clung to the inside of the nightclub, Ivan watched Alfred carefully. He hadn't changed his body language back yet from that easy grace and it was driving Ivan absolutely mad. Every swish of his hips, every swing of lean but powerful arms made him want to rip into him.

He hated that he wanted him so much and he hated himself for it. But mostly, mostly he just hated Alfred. He wanted to rip him apart, to tear into his flesh so deeply that the wounds never healed. He wanted to mark him, claim him, to possess him in a way that no sane person would ever want to possess another being. The gruesome thoughts tumbling about his head made his stomach roll at the same time they sent shivers of arousal through his body.

If only the stupid little fucker would drop the act and go back to being annoying and stupid, he could calm back down and forget that these sinful, dirty thoughts had ever crossed his mind. He could forget the scent of his skin from the night before, or the way his eyes had danced so impishly in the moonlight. An imp, it was fitting. Surely Alfred was some kind of evil being, a demon from hell sent to seduce him. No mere human could be that tempting, that…beautiful and yet so forbidden at the same time.

He stalked towards the car, fists clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to quell the mix of rage and want that consumed him. Alfred had no right to do this to him, to have so much control over his thoughts and emotions.

Ivan was a guarded, unemotional man who liked to play things close to his chest. It had never suited him to be open about his feelings or to get close to any human being other than his sisters. Emotions confused and disoriented him for the most part and when he was confused, he often lashed out. It was infuriating to him that this spoiled little brat had the power to coax things out of him. Not only the desire, though that was disconcerting on its own, but the easy way he made Ivan visibly angry or the way he had the power to ruin his entire day. Still, being angry was better than Alfred wiggling his way past Ivan's defenses in a positive way. Anger and hatred was so much easier to manage than happiness and friendship and it hurt less when it ended.

Still, they'd proven before that they could be intimate without destroying that fragile equilibrium of vitriol. Perhaps it was worth it to try again, to dance their delicate and dangerous dance of seduction and violence. For once Ivan was almost sure that he could have his cake and eat it, too.

A slow smirk spread across his face as he widened his stride to catch up with Alfred, swiftly pinning him to the hood of the SUV. Violet eyes danced dangerously as he looked down at his partner. The younger man stared up at Ivan, upper lip twitching momentarily into a warning snarl. Ivan almost laughed at that before sweeping down to capture Alfred's lips in a hungry kiss.

For a second, Alfred responded and it seemed like Ivan would get what he wanted. But suddenly everything shifted and Alfred was pushing him off with a low growl. The Russian thought for a moment that Alfred would come back in a counter-attack, but he stayed where he was, eyes glinting like steel and lip raised in that same snarl.

"If I'm a whore, you better fucking pay me before you try anything." He spat out, wiping his mouth and turning swiftly on his heel to climb into the car. Ivan stood there, stock still, as the younger man turned on the car, only moving when it became apparent that Alfred had no qualms about abandoning him there. He ran after the car as it began to move, wrenching the door open and jumping into the moving vehicle.

"Nice to see you could join us." Mocked Alfred, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Ivan frowned as he buckled his seatbelt, eyes trained on Alfred's face. There was real rage there and what seemed like a little bit of hurt. But that couldn't possibly be true. Alfred couldn't be fazed by anything. He would know, he'd tried! He could rile him up, get him mad, really piss him off, but nothing he'd ever said had ever hurt him.

Ivan paid it no heed. Why should he care if Alfred had been hurt? It wasn't his concern, surely, if the boy couldn't handle a little insult. If he didn't want to be called a whore, perhaps he shouldn't open his legs so readily. Certainly not to men whom he had given every indication that he despised. Only a whore would sleep with someone they hated just because they were horny.

Despite his assurance to himself that he didn't care if Alfred was hurt, he couldn't help but look over at him every few seconds, as if checking to see if he was still angry. The other man's expression changed little with each glance and only once did Ivan catch his eye. Ivan felt a chill in the car as he met those eyes, icy blue and yet dancing with the fires of hell. He'd never seen Alfred this angry. No, that was a lie. He'd seen this kind of anger from Alfred once before.

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_For the last 40 hours Ivan and Alfred had been working a kidnapping case. Ivan had gone home to sleep and let his sisters know he was still alive once or twice, but Alfred was tireless. He seemed almost to not need sleep. Ivan hadn't seen him ingest anything more substantial than the thick black coffee left to simmer all day in the machine in the precinct. He was a man possessed, wholly unaware of anything but the little girl they were trying to find._

_She'd been kidnapped by a known pedophile, who had gotten off on a technicality only a day before taking her. Alfred had blamed himself, thinking that if he'd only looked harder they could have found something to put away the bastard at least until his victims were adults. Ivan knew better, he knew that Alfred had done the best he could. But his partner was still young and every case was still so personal to him. Ivan sometimes thought that Alfred would always let cases get to him like this; he was just that kind of a person. Or he would be until he had an "accident while cleaning his gun" a few years down the line after it all got to be too much. _

_They both knew the chances of finding her were slim and only getting slimmer. Ivan, as much as it killed him, wanted Alfred to just put it aside and give up. But the boy wouldn't listen to him. He was so caught up, so involved; he couldn't see that even if he found the perp the girl would probably be dead. He admired Al's drive and dedication, but the kid was a fool. _

_The call came in just as Ivan came back to the precinct after heading home for a quick shower and to let the girls know he was okay. He had lingered longer than he should have in Natalia's room, watching the little girl sleep so peacefully and wondering what he would do if it was her who had been taken and not this poor little girl he'd never known. _

_Almost as soon as he'd walked in the door, his partner had dragged him back out again without a word. The fire in his eyes and the quick cadence of his steps let Ivan know that it was best not to argue. He hadn't known his partner long at this point, but there were some things he'd been able to figure out about him. One was that he was about as stubborn as Ivan was himself._

_Someone had called in an anonymous tip, responding to the Amber alert. An old lady who was half-senile and blind in one eye, but it never hurt to check it out and Alfred just had a gut feeling that the woman knew what she was talking about. Sure enough, when they got to the empty warehouse in the meat-packing district, they found the sicko's truck parked out front. _

_They circled the building, looking for all exits and entrances, waiting for the warrant from the DA. Alfred was itching to bust in, knowing the bastard probably had the little girl inside. But without the warrant, the pedophile would only get out again. _

_Then came the cry of help from inside the building, the cry of a little girl. It could only be their victim, crying out for help she couldn't know was already on the way. With probable cause, Alfred busted in through the nearest door, gun drawn and Ivan not far behind. _

_They wound their way through the pre-packaged meat, following the cries into the freezer. They echoed off the walls, making it difficult to figure out where they were coming from. Alfred was determined, though, and skilled at his job. Ivan's heart raced, thumping in his throat as they tried to locate the girl, going through each room and clearing it. With every empty room his heart sunk a little and he sent up a fervent prayer that they'd find her in time, that the worst case scenario didn't come to pass. _

_He kicked the door to a freezer room open, checking quickly for the pair. His finger was ready on the trigger of his gun, itching to put a bullet in the man's skull. He knew Alfred felt the same, almost hoping that the man gave them a reason to shoot. If there was one type of person who deserved death it was child molesters. _

_The room was barren and cold, their breath puffing in white clouds from their mouths, but the screaming seemed to get louder. They were getting closer, Ivan could feel it in his gut and by the way Alfred was clenching his hand around his pistol, he knew his partner could too. They moved across the room almost silently, eyes scanning for any sign of where the perp may have taken the girl. It was dingy and freezing and hard to see, but a scrap of bright pink cloth caught Ivan's eye._

_His heart sank as he retrieved the shirt, a child's, from its place on the floor. Were they too late? Had the man already…no, he couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about that innocent little girl being ruined or how he would feel if it was Natalia in her place. They were so very close in age, the girl and his sister…_

_He saw another piece of cloth in a doorway hidden by a stack of boxes, visible only if you knew where to look. Her jeans. Oh God, they were too late, weren't they? A sob caught in his throat and Alfred's lip curled into a snarl as he busted through the doorway into the next room. _

_Compared to the freezer room, this one was warm but no more inviting. The lighting was even dimmer, the only illumination coming from tiny slits high up in the wall where windows had been boarded up. Boxes were stacked high along the walls and it looked like any other room in any other warehouse. Except for the small alcove near the middle of the room where the bastard had set up a bed with many toys and stuffed animals. The sick freak kept kids here while he…_

_He was standing over the girl, eyes dark and lustful. He'd already undressed her and she was screaming and trying to get away while he held her down and tried to free himself from the confines of his pants. Ivan felt sick watching it and his hand shook holding his gun. _

"_Hold it right there, pervert!" Alfred growled, raising his gun and pointing it directly at the man's head. The perp looked around, eyes wild, and stopped. For a moment he stood there, transfixed, staring down the barrel of Alfred's gun. _

_Time seemed to stop as Alfred stared that freak down, the man stock still like a rabbit that's caught the scent of a predator. He knew now that he was done, no matter what he did. Ivan could see it in his eyes. There was no way he was getting out of this one, not this time. _

_And then, all of a sudden, something snapped inside of that man. Disregarding the gun trained on him by a master marksman, he turned back to the girl, eyes crazed and the little girl looking more frightened than ever. _

_A crack, like a whip on a man's back, and it was over. A quick, clean headshot and the man slumped to the floor, the little girl screaming bloody murder. She would probably remember this day for the rest of her life. Looking into Alfred's stone cold blue eyes and seeing the almost indifferent hatred there, Ivan knew that he would, too._

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There was something different in Alfred's eyes now. The seething hate there wasn't cold and indifferent. It was hot, searing, and Ivan knew that this time it was directed at him. For a split second Ivan wanted to grin. To have such intense and heated emotions directed at him made his blood sing, even if they were negative emotions. He wanted all of Alfred, every facial expression, every temper, and every outburst. That possessive instinct roared in him like some primeval monster, hungry and dissatisfied.

He didn't even try to squish it down anymore. He just took it for what it was, a twisted, evil need in him he couldn't control. He couldn't even say he wouldn't indulge it again, given the chance. He'd take Alfred hard and rough up against a wall if Alfred would let him. He wanted to see that hate-filled inferno in his eyes tempered with passion. And then he wanted to fuck it out of him so that all that was left was…

What?

What would be left of Alfred for Ivan if there wasn't hate? He certainly didn't smile at him like he did the others, wish him well on his birthday, or go out for drinks with him after work. The only thing that made up their relationship was mutual hatred, begrudging teamwork, and now sex.

The thought unsettled him. Not so much the fact that this was all there was to their dynamic, he'd known that for a long time. No, what disturbed him was that he wanted to know what more there _could_ be. He wanted to see Alfred without that hate in his eyes. He didn't necessarily want them to get along, but he wanted to know what he was missing before he committed to hating him for the rest of his life.

As they sped down the streets of the outer city, traffic already dispersing, Alfred gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. How _dare_ he? How dare Ivan call him a whore!? He'd given him the ride of his fucking life and that ungrateful bastard…agh! He was just like….

He was just like Sean.

Sean Jameson had been Alfred's first boyfriend, his first love. Back when Alfred was only 16: young, shy, innocent, he'd loved that boy with all his heart. They were happy, or so he thought. Alfred was, at least. Sean pressured him constantly to have sex, saying that if Alfred really loved him, he'd go all the way. Alfred didn't want to, he'd seen what became of his father's girlfriends. But he did love Sean and when he threatened to leave him, Alfred consented.

It had been awkward and painful, but wasn't everyone's first time? But afterwards Sean had just gotten up and left without a word. After that, every time Al tried calling him or talking to him at school, he would act like he wasn't there. Alfred made himself sick worrying about why his boyfriend was being such an asshole.

That is, until he overheard him calling him a whore and laughing about it to his friends.

He'd seen red, charging up to him and punching him right in the jaw. He'd knocked out two teeth and given him a big, dark, swollen bruise, breaking up with him right on the spot. That night, cradled in his brother Francis' arms, he'd cried himself to sleep. After that, Alfred had embraced the words flung at him, having sex at his own discretion with whoever he wanted and forming no emotional attachments.

That didn't mean it didn't still hurt.

He didn't know why. He'd buried that pain deep inside of himself for so long. And it wasn't like he gave a shit what Ivan thought. But, dammit, for some reason it just hurt when Ivan said it. Maybe because he had to work with the guy, maybe because he was just having issues, maybe because he just reminded him so much of Sean. He didn't know. But it stung like the crack of a whip on his cheek.

The rage burned in him, screaming white at its core and all-consuming. It was a star, a supernova, exploding from him in growls and curse words and the clenching of his hands tight around the steering wheel. One could almost see the steam coming off his ears as he tried his best to ignore Ivan.

But it was hard to. Not only because he was so pissed at him, but also because he wasn't someone who kept anything in verbally. The silence bugged him almost more than what Ivan had said. But after a few more minutes passing, he just couldn't take it anymore. He had to talk. Scream, yell, curse, something!

"How fucking _dare_ you, you asshole? You call _me_ a fucking whore. Check in the goddamn mirror! If only whores open their legs for men they hate, as you say, then guess what? You're a fucking whore, too. Just because you fucked me doesn't mean you're some paragon of virtue. You aren't a victim in this! You were a willing participant. It isn't my job to make sure you keep it in your pants, that's your job." He snarled, eyes burning through Ivan as fast as fire through the pages of an old book.

"You are a whore." Ivan sneered, not looking over at Alfred. That sinking feeling that he'd actually hurt his partner started rearing its head again, but Ivan squashed it down like a bug. "Regardless of my virtue, you're a whore. I did not want you until you tempted me, I did not start this." He laughed cruelly, finally pinning Alfred with a condescending gaze. But what he saw when he looked over…he wasn't prepared for that.

All of the heat had gone out of Alfred. He was clutching the steering wheel like his life depended on it, arms shaking. He wasn't crying, the boy was too strong and proud for that, but there was a glossy sheen to his blue eyes, like they were made of glass. He opened his mouth to say something, anything. To apologize, to make it worse, he didn't know. But he was cut off before he could even utter a word as the car screeched to a halt beside an empty field just outside of the city on their way back to the suburbs.

"Get out." Alfred growled, the rumble of thunder in the distance in an empty desert. Ivan sat still, just staring at Alfred, unbelieving that he would just leave him there. "I said get out of the damn car!" He roared, the thunder quickly getting closer as the storm of his anger moved through the sky. Then he did something Ivan would never have expected: He got out of the car, too.

"What?" He asked, with a sneer. "Are we just going to leave the car here and walk the rest of the way because you're throwing a temper tantrum, you overgrown child?" He scoffed.

Alfred didn't say anything. He didn't even acknowledge that Ivan had said anything. He just stalked right up to him until Ivan thought he was going to pass him entirely before stopping abruptly and smacking his fist square into his partner's jaw. A loud crack could be heard, a huge bruise forming almost immediately on Ivan's jaw and Alfred's knuckles already sore from striking bone. But he didn't care. He just swung another punch, catching his cheek with a right hook.

There were many things that could be said about Alfred. He was brash, impetuous, didn't think things through, but no one could say he wasn't the best boxer at the precinct. Every year there was a tournament held and every year, Alfred won. And Ivan was getting the full blast of his skills.

"You like calling people whores? You like looking down on them like you're tough shit, big guy? How fucking horrible must you feel about yourself that you have to go around insulting others to feel goo about yourself." He growled, swinging again.

This time, Ivan anticipated it and dodged, barely having time to step back before the fist swung right past the tip of his prominent nose. "I do not insult, I tell the truth. And if you are insulted by the truth, perhaps you should not act like a whore!" He snarled back, swinging one large paw of his own at Alfred, who dodged deftly. Strong and quick, a bad combination to be up against, but Ivan had had worse opponents.

"How I act is my own fucking business. If you didn't want to have sex with me, you could have said so!" Alfred growled, swinging another punch and getting another hit, this one straight on Ivan's nose, the large feature twisting to the side and beginning to bleed. Good, he'd broken it.

"Or is that not it?" He sneered. "You wanted it, I know you did. All I had to do was offer it and you jumped at the chance. No, you aren't mad because you didn't want it. You're mad because you're _ashamed_ that you wanted it." He growled, giving him another tap on the mouth.

A spike went through Ivan as Alfred hit on the core matter of things. He wasn't angry at Alfred, he was angry at himself. He was supposed to have more self-control than this. He was supposed to be the calm, collected one. But Alfred was right. The second the younger man had offered himself to him, Ivan had gorged himself on Alfred like a man dying of starvation offered a grand, delectable feast. And just like that, he realized that he'd needed Alfred for a long time. The seething hatred he'd thought he'd felt watching the younger cop with the others, laughing and joking around the water cooler…that had always been jealousy. Even the jealousy he'd thought he'd felt had been his way of rationalizing the desire. He'd wanted him so badly, but had been so ashamed of himself for it, that he'd buried every positive emotion surrounding Alfred until they were all twisted and black. But the desire still hadn't gone away, it had just rooted itself in his hatred and grown from there, a twisted tree of black, rotted wood.

If Alfred saw the realization in his eyes, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just sent him another right hook, his meanest punch, his own knuckles starting to bleed. Ivan realized then that he hadn't even gotten a hit in. But that would change, that would change quickly.

He reached out, taking Alfred by the throat and squeezing, watching as his face first paled, and then began to grow red. "You stupid little child!" He growled. "You couldn't have left well enough alone, could you? Did you know? Is that why you had this arranged, this farce of a mission? Did you know all along and just planned to…to trick me, to toy with me!?" He snarled, unable to help the tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to feel this way, he didn't. It was sick and wrong and all he could think of was Katyusha's disappointed face and how his mother's heart would have been broken if she'd lived to see this.

Alfred couldn't breathe and as the darkness started to close in on him, he could barely see, either. Ivan was lost, he knew, he wouldn't listen to reason, he wouldn't let go. He was too far gone. But Alfred wasn't going to go without a fight. With the last breath he had in his lungs, purplish red lips tugged up into a labored smirk as he rasped out, "Faggot."

Ivan let go immediately, eyes widening in fear and pain. Suddenly he was back in high school the teasing and taunting ringing in his ears, even though he'd tried so hard not to act on his unnatural urges. And here he was, standing over the one person who had successfully made him forget about how wrong it was, watching him gasp and choke, thick bruises in the shape of Ivan's hands beginning to form on his neck.

He vowed then and there that he would never, _ever_ act on those urges again. Not only because they were sick and wrong, but because he knew he was a monster who would do nothing but hurt any man who could convince him to lay aside those convictions like he had hurt Alfred. Not just the bruises on his neck, but the look in his eyes when Ivan had rejected him this morning and the second look at the club.

Alfred gasped and choked on the ground, wondering why Ivan had put him down and why he was looking at him like that. Alfred didn't buy that Ivan was truly sorry, not with the way they'd treated each other for so long. Not that he'd started it. They'd been friends when they'd started out together and now…well look at them. What had happened?

"Please…Alfred-" Ivan started, still looking so dismayed it almost hurt to look at him. But Alfred put up a hand to silence him, not even having the strength to speak yet.

"Save it." He finally rasped. "Don't say you're sorry because you're not. Don't' promise never to do it again because you probably will. I don't want any more lies and backstabbing and backhanded words. I want to know here and now why you hate me so much!" He snarled.

Ivan was taken aback, stammering and spluttering, unable to speak. Alfred had never seen him like this, flustered and awkward. It was a throwback to Ivan's years as a teenager before he'd hardened himself against the evils of the world and the evils of his own sick desires.

"Well?" He growled, blue eyes narrowing. "Spit it out! Why do you hate me? We used to be friends!"

"Because this is wrong!" Ivan cried at last, burying his face in his hands. "I shouldn't…I shouldn't _want _you like this! You shouldn't have wanted me! We're both men! It's sick and wrong and we can't…we can't! My mother is rolling in her grave right now because her only son has disgraced her and my sisters…oh god, if my sisters ever found out…" He sank to the ground, completely breaking down.

Alfred was completely taken aback. He'd never, never _ever_ seen Ivan cry. He'd never even seen him look sad. The closest he'd ever got was that far off look in his eyes the one time they'd talked about their families. But that was back when they'd been friends, when they'd first joined the force. This was different. They were enemies now and here he was, on the ground weeping because he didn't want to be attracted to him.

"Hey…" He murmured, kneeling down in front of him and touching his shoulder. Ivan jerked back as if he'd been burned and Alfred did the same, holding his hand to his chest. "Dude…man…it's gonna be okay, man. It's not as bad as you think! Being…the way we are." He hesitated to say gay, knowing that Ivan probably wasn't okay with that. "It's not wrong or sick or gross. They just tell you that because they're stuck up old pricks who aren't getting' any themselves." He soothed, still not reaching back out to touch him. "Hell, do you see anyone at the precinct givin' me a hard time? What about Liz? She's bi and no one bugs her. Mei didn't say anything and she thinks we're lovers."

"It isn't the opinions of strangers and co-workers I worry about." Ivan spat, his voice low and gravelly. "It is my poor parents in heaven, my sisters here waiting for me, and God who I worry about."

Alfred was an avowed atheist and wanted to snort and tell Ivan he shouldn't care what someone's imaginary friend thought, but he really didn't think this was the time. Instead he just mustered up a kind smile. "Hey, dude…if God hates us fags so much, why does he keep making us, hmm?" He asked, giving him a wink. He wasn't even mad at the other man anymore. Ivan just looked…broken. "And why are we all so cute?" He grinned.

Ivan snorted, rolling his eyes. "God does not make men gay. He makes all men to love women and then the devil corrupts them. I am a freak, evil and vile and sinful." He snarled, more at himself than Alfred.

Al just laughed, shaking his head. "Dude, you need a new church. The one you've been going to is obviously cracked. No one who really believes what Jesus taught would preach hate and vitriol from the pulpit. Go to church with Liz, her pastor priest thingy is real swell."

"Elizaveta is Catholic, Alfred. I will not go to a Catholic church." He scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Just go talk to the guy, you butt!" Alfred huffed, punching him on the arm. Ivan shot him a glare, rubbing his arm and returning the hit.

"I cannot very well go and talk to a priest in Liza's church while we are on a mission." Ivan reminded him, sighing. "And any other church I go to will just tell me the same thing my church does. That I am a vile, evil sinner with the devil in me." Which was true, as far as Ivan was concerned.

"Then go after, dude. You shouldn't have to feel like you're a horrible person just for being who you are." Alfred murmured. Then, because things were getting a bit too friendly for his liking, added, "Even if who you are is an asshole. But shit, assholes can be gay, too."

"Thank you so much for your words of kindness." Ivan drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Trust Alfred to ruin anything they might have had going. Anything _platonic_, of course. Even if Ivan somehow came to the conclusion that it was okay to be…as he was, he still wouldn't seek out a relationship. Not with the bruises on Alfred's throat still forming.

"Just get in the car, asshole. We still need to pick up groceries before we go back to the house. I'm not waking up to another morning with nothing good for breakfast. A man needs to eat in the morning, dammit!" He grumbled, shoving himself off the ground and holding a hand to help Ivan up.

Ivan eyed it warily, only taking it after a long moment of contemplation and trying to pull his hand away as soon as he was up. But Alfred's grip was as strong as steel and locked onto him. He looked into those eyes, hard as diamond with a look in them Ivan couldn't place. The closest he could come was determination, but even that was wrong.

"Hey, we got that out of our systems, finally confronted the beast head on and…I want to propose a truce." He nodded, that same steel in his gaze. Ivan watched him closely, every flicker of emotion and twitch of his face to see if Alfred was trying to trick him before nodding and shaking the hand in his.

"I accept. We will need to work together if we hope to get our job done. I see now that our feuding has been jeopardizing our work for some time. But no more, from now on we are no longer enemies, even if we are still not friends." He nodded gruffly. Only then did Alfred let him withdraw his arm and climb into the car.

As they drove off towards the grocery store, Ivan could only think about how nothing felt different and yet, at the same time, nothing was the same.

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And there you have it! Hopefully it won't take me another year to finish the next chapter but, honestly, I won't make any promises. I don't even know where this is going, really. Which is sad, because I _do_ know how it ends.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long, but life's been hectic! I can't promise anything insofar as another chapter goes, but I can say that I've been on a roll lately! Who knows, you may have another chapter before the year is out! 

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Alfred hummed softly to himself as he unlocked the front door of the safe house, a bag of groceries balanced on his hip. He hiked them up, nudging the door open with his foot and stepped over the threshold, picking the other bag of groceries that he'd set down on the doorstep up and carrying them inside. Ivan brought in two more bags, the brown paper kind. Alfred had insisted, wanting to recycle them rather than having a bunch of plastic bags they might not find an occasion to use while they were here.

The shopping trip had been a strange experience, and they'd gotten more than a few strange looks. They'd set Ivan's nose, but his eyes were dark and puffy from the break and Alfred wouldn't be surprised if it never properly healed and stayed slightly crooked. Alfred let himself think for a moment that it would be rather fetching on him before moving on to other thoughts. He also had a bruise on his jaw and a fat lip from where Alfred's strikes had landed. Alfred, on the other hand, had those dark, finger-shaped bruises on his throat and his knuckles were bloody and bruised. They must have looked quite the sight.

But that's not why the trip had been weird. If anything, the oddness had come from how normal it felt. They walked up and down the aisles together, debating over items and comparing prices. One of them would put an item in the basket and, every so often, the other would obstinately take it out, resulting in a mini staring contest until one or the other backed down. The vitriol and hatred that had hung between them like a thick, black cloud was gone now, and in its place there was only a sort of calm complacency. They weren't friends, they certainly weren't lovers, but they weren't enemies anymore, either. They just…were.

Honestly, Alfred was fine with that. He was more than fine with it, really. He didn't think he was ready to be friends with the guy. He'd seemed so broken after their fight and it made him think that maybe, that's what Ivan wanted too. Everything had just been happening all at once in a huge display of gunpowder blasts and fistfights. He wasn't even sure how it had all happened. One day they hated each other as per usual, then suddenly they were fucking and now….it was all so draining.

He guessed it was the stress of everything. He'd always suspected that Ivan was gay and he knew that on his side there's always been latent desires, so it didn't really surprise him that when they were put under pressure, they went off like a powder keg. It was a good thing they'd gotten it out of the way. Hopefully teamwork and police work would both be easier for them now that everything was said and done.

Ivan, on the other hand, felt lost. The normalcy of shopping with Alfred had sometimes been too much and at one point he'd had to head out and wait in the car. It made his heart ache, how natural it felt to shop for groceries with another man. It was like Satan was taunting him with everything he'd secretly wanted to test his faith. He'd never considered how normal life could be, even for someone like him. He'd just assumed he would always stay and take care of his sisters. And when they got married and moved out, he would live alone for the rest of his life. But suddenly, another option was being laid out in front of him and it took everything in him not to hope that one day, he could find someone to share these experiences with for the real, instead of playing at a normal life with Alfred.

He took the groceries to the kitchen, trailing behind Alfred like a kicked puppy. He shooed Alfred away with the excuse that Alfred had to clean and bandage his knuckles and tried not to think too hard about the trip to the grocery store, focusing instead on the physical pain on his broken nose and other injuries. How would they explain that to Mei Li and her crew?

He decided, on a split second whim, to make lunch for the two of them. That would be something nice, wouldn't it? To apologize for overreacting and wallowing in his own self-pity. Alfred wouldn't let him apologize with words, every time he tried Alfred stilled his words with a dismissive wave of his hand. But Ivan had to do something, or he felt like he'd go insane.

When Alfred came back into the kitchen to check on Ivan, he was chopping up some vegetables, water boiling in a large pot on the stove. Somehow, Alfred knew what this was about, but he wasn't going to say anything. If Ivan wanted to cook dinner and run himself ragged over some weird sense of guilt for getting beaten up, let him. At least Alfred got a nice, home-cooked meal that he didn't have to cook and that didn't come with the customary social interaction with his crazy-ass family.

"What's for dinner?" He asked, leaning up against the door frame. Ivan glanced at him momentarily before returning back to chopping the vegetables with a level of skill that caught Alfred by surprise. He looked like he really knew what he was doing.

"Chicken noodle soup. It is cold outside." He answered, moving the potato he'd been chopping to the side and picking up some fresh green beans instead. It would be nice to have a garden to get vegetables out of, like he did at home. He had insisted that they buy all of their produce fresh rather than canned or cooked. He couldn't stand eating anything that had been canned unless he'd done it himself.

"Oh shit, man. You know, there's a fireplace in the living room. I'm gonna go try to scrounge up some logs for a fire. We can have a proper fall night, you know? I picked up some cider, too, the hard stuff." Alfred grinned, suddenly taken with the idea of an evening in front of the fire with something alcoholic that tasted like fall. He'd prefer to spend it at home with his family or some booty call, instead of Ivan, but it might be a good thing for them to spend time together when they weren't either fighting or recklessly pawing at each other.

Ivan merely nodded, taking the vegetables and dumping them in the pot. "Alright, then, go find some wood and I will make dinner." He grunted, still wanting to shut out how normal and natural this felt. Not necessarily with Alfred himself, he told himself, but with a man period. Every minute it grew harder and harder to not want something like this for himself, this kind of domestic tranquility. He pushed the thoughts away again, concentrating on the pain in his face and the task of cutting and seasoning the chicken.

Alfred had scurried outside eagerly, looking for logs like a kid looking for Easter eggs. There was a big log in the back yard and the tools for splitting them, but coming across firewood seemed to be a little more difficult. He thought to himself that they really should keep this place stocked with firewood if they were going to be keeping people here throughout the fall and winter.

Finally he found a few logs in the shed and got to splitting them, the thud of the axe going through the wood ringing throughout the back yard. Alfred hadn't had an occasion to split logs since his grandparents had died, their farm laying abandoned upstate until one of the boys or their father decided they wanted to use it for something. Alfred had taken dates up there a few times, but every time it felt like they were intruding on something sacred that only family should see, so he'd stopped.

He split a good amount of wood, almost all of what he found, putting the rest back into the shed. His shoulders ached is a satisfying way and after everything that had happened today, he felt like this was exactly what he'd needed. He took the logs into the house, feeling optimistic about that night and how things were going. He started the fire up in the den, grinning at the toasty warm feeling that filled the room immediately, even before the actual heat could spread out. There was just something about a fire roaring in the fireplace that made everything just feel homey.

Ivan had watched the whole thing through the kitchen window while the chicken cooked, unable to tear himself away from the sight of Alfred splitting logs like it was something he did every day, something he enjoyed. He hated himself for it, but he wanted…he wasn't even sure. There was just this feeling of longing in his chest for some vague idea of a life that felt like this.

He'd pulled himself away to save his sanity, deciding to make up some sugar cookie dough to surprise Alfred. He seemed like the kind of person who would want warm, fresh cookies on a night like this. He seemed like the kind of person who would want any kind of cookies at any given moment. He wished he had a bread maker somewhere. There was nothing better on a cold night than a few thick sliced of fresh, homemade bread, but he didn't feel like going through all of the work of baking it in the oven. That would take too long, anyway.

As soon as the cookies were in the oven, he washed his hands and lingered on the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, feeling like he was intruding even though all Alfred was doing was sitting happily in front of the fire, warming his hands.

Ivan realized then that he didn't know what to do with himself now that the hate was gone. Everything between them felt empty and raw. He wasn't sure how to proceed now that he wasn't expected to constantly berate and insult the other man. He felt like he was back in high school, in that awkward phase of his life when he was slightly chubby and could barely speak in front of people.

Alfred smiled when he turned to Ivan and it only confused him more. Alfred never smiled at him, it was impossible. For Ivan there had only ever been scowls and snarled curses. "Hey, big guy, what's shakin'?" He asked, patting the floor beside him. "You don't have to stand there all night, come sit by the fire." He offered. And even though he was being nice, Ivan felt like that was the cruelest thing the younger man had ever said to him.

Still, he sat down, holding himself almost as if he expected Alfred to lash out and hit him again, or for everything to suddenly revert to how it had always been. Everything about this situation scared him in deep, disconcerting ways. And he hated himself for being scared because there was no real reason to be. It was just that everything felt so normal and he knew it wasn't. There was a sick sense of dread about everything, as if someone was just waiting for him to grow accustomed to this, only to bring hellfire and brimstone down upon him. Maybe he did need to go to that church.

Alfred looked over at him and sighed, rolling his eyes and laying back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. "You look like you expect me to bite you." He scoffed. "I won't, you know. Not unless you ask, at least." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Instead, Ivan looked like he'd been struck for a moment before sinking back in on himself. "Jesus, dude! It was a joke, c'mon. It's not that bad, us not fighting." He whispered that last part, in case someone was listening in.

Ivan opened his mouth to say something, but found that he wasn't quite sure what to say. How could he explain to Alfred why he felt this way, when it was irrational in the first place. He'd never understand, because he was so shameless about his own sexuality. And how could he tell Alfred that he made him want a normal life someday himself? He would take that the wrong way and be really weirded out. "I know what to do when we are fighting." He said finally. "I do not know what to do now that we are not." And that was at least partially true, and Alfred accepted it with a nod.

"It's been too long since we got along, I get it. It's not like this is some natural transition for me, either. But, you know, I'm trying. And that's all we can really do. Don't you want to know what its like to not be fighting with someone 24/7? Not to mention how much better our work is going to go now that we're not at each other's throats." He tried to reason with him, laying out all the pros to their situation.

Ivan simply nodded and tried to relax, though something in the way he held himself still seemed a little stiff. He was relieved when the timer on the cookie went out, giving him and excuse to leave the room. The cookies turned out beautifully and the chicken wasn't too far from done, either. He would att he meat to the now simmering soup as soon as it was done and serve it up.

He stayed in the kitchen, rather than returning to Alfred in the living room. He couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment the other shoe would drop and he'd be left standing in the ruins of their partnership, potentially in danger of being unmasked as undercover cops.

However, once the timer went off for the chicken and he added the pieces of meat to the stew, he had no choice but to call Alfred in for dinner, relinquishing his sanctuary, probably for the rest of the night, if Alfred's insistence on getting drunk in the front room was any indication.

They ate in relative silence, only speaking up to ask for something to be passed. For Alfred the silence was nigh on companionable, but for Ivan it was hell, a sort of reversal of their usual dynamic. He was glad, however, that Alfred's eyes lit up with excitement when he brought out the cookies. He couldn't say why, exactly, but it made him feel a bit better about the whole situation.

Only once they'd retired to the living room to sit in front of the fire with their hard cider did Ivan finally relax. Alcohol had always had that kind of effect on him. It was why, in his young adulthood between high school and the force, he'd been somewhat of an alcoholic, trying to dull his awkward and/or violent tendencies with booze. But he could control himself better now and a few drinks after dinner certainly wouldn't hurt.

Only, it wasn't just a few drinks after dinner. Alfred had bought a huge jug of the cider and every time Ivan finished his drink, Alfred would insist on pouring him another, both of their faces flushed from the drink and their laughter growing louder with every round. It was like it had been in those first few months they'd worked together, when they could be friends and go out for drinks and just have fun.

It was a few hours past dinner and quickly nearing midnight when an extremely drunk Alfred turned to Ivan, eyes serious and unfocused, and asked the hardest question Ivan had ever had to answer.

"Why did you hate me so much, dude? I don't…" He lurched a bit, "I don't remember doing anything to you. Like…the first time we fought, it caught me by complete surprise! It was like…all of a sudden you had a bee in your bonnet and just…you kept picking all these fights and eventually I just started fighting back. What was your goddamned problem?" He frowned, or rather, he pouted. When he was drunk, Alfred had a tendency to regress back to a form of immaturity.

Ivan was speechless, just staring at Alfred like he'd grown an extra head or something. It had been so long since this all started that it was hard to put into words exactly what his problem had been. He knew, of course, but it was harder to put it into words, to jettison it into the world and make it real in a way he'd never wanted to.

So Ivan just shook his head and shrugged, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. "I can't really remember. Something about you just made me angry all the time." He sighed. Alfred snorted and pushed his shoulder.

"That's fucking bullshit, man. Don't feed me that dumbass…uhm…bullshit." He frowned at him again. "C'mon, really, tell me. Why did you hate me so much? I promise I won't get mad at you or anything." He crossed his heart, looking proud of himself as he grinned down at the other man.

"I wanted to kiss you." He blurted out, too drunk to even panic over what he'd said. He closed his eyes and sighed. "You…you were so bright, intellectually and...you know, your personality. You were nice to me, at first, too. And I liked that. No one…not a lot of people were nice to me before you. The world is so cruel, children especially. And there was this…well, it's still there…there's this hardness, this…I don't know how to say it in English, I'm too drunk. You're a very special person and I hated myself for…for…" He stopped then, choked up and curling over on his side. "Forget it, I don't want to talk about this anymore." He grunted.

Alfred had sat and listened to all of this in amazement. So Ivan had had a crush on him, huh? That was kinda cute, actually. If the stupid prick hadn't been so up in arms about how unnatural and sinful being gay was, that could have gone somewhere. It was probably too late now, and Alfred was fine with that, but it was a nice thought, at least.

He crawled over to Ivan and draped himself across his side, blinking blearily at him for a moment before poking his nose and saying 'boop', then dissolving into giggles. "C'mere, dude." He laughed. "No, seriously, c'mere." He dragged Ivan back up to a sitting position, looking him in the eyes. "You know…I know you're all beat up about being gay and all." Ivan flinched at the use of that term to describe him, but Alfred went on. "But I mean, look. It's not as bad as all that. Look how much progress has been made, look at how many people are on your side. The fact that there are churches you can go to, Catholic churches, even, that will accept and love you for who you are says a lot. You don't have to be afraid anymore, you don't have to worry about what people will think. And you know what? I bet your sister already knows." He nodded sagely. "That's how things like that work, your family usually knows even before you come out to them. She's probably just waiting until you feel okay enough to tell her. She obviously still loves you, and you're obviously really close. Hell, I thought when I came out that my dad and Arthur were gonna beat me bloody and kick me out on the street. But did they? Hell fucking no they didn't! My dad was positively thrilled." Alfred snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately. "He was so glad I'd never come home and tell him I'd gotten a girl pregnant that he took us all out to dinner to celebrate that night. Took off of work and everything." Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess what I'm saying is…you're not alone. And you don't have to feel ashamed. And that…you could have kissed me if you wanted to."

Ivan just blinked at him, barely comprehending what had just happened. He'd had quite a bit to drink, which was the only explanation he had for why he leaned in and pressed his lips chastely to Alfred's. It didn't linger and there was no heat in it. It was simply a quick peck and he was gone, like he'd never even done it.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammered out, blushing profusely and scrambling back. "I just…I just didn't….I didn't want to regret not having done that." He mumbled. Alfred merely grinned and shrugged.

"No problem, big guy, I completely understand. And look, you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. We may not really be friends, but I understand what it's like to feel so alone that everything you think you can't have makes you angry. So just…don't shut me out anymore, kay?" He asked.

Ivan nodded dumbly, still holding himself like he expected to be chastised. "I think…I think I will go to bed now. I am very drunk and I do not trust myself under the scrutiny of these cameras." He said slowly, his Russian accent starting to come out as he slurred his words. Alfred nodded and got up himself.

"Here, let me help you. I should probably get to bed myself, I'm pretty fucking beat. And who knows what's going to happen tomorrow, really. Mei Li might swing by to check up on us or give us another assignment, and we don't want to be caught still sleeping it off." He grinned and helped Ivan up, yawning and stretching and trailing after the larger man as he climbed the stairs.

It only took a few minutes for Ivan to fall asleep that night, but in those few minutes, everything seemed to solidify and make sense and he knew, even if he'd blown any chance he had with Alfred a long time ago, that maybe that normal life that had been haunting him all day wasn't as out of reach as he thought.

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The next morning Ivan awoke to a splitting headache and a sensitivity to light that he'd been blessedly avoiding since he'd graduated from college. How much could he possibly have drunk last night to actually give him a hangover? He groaned and rolled back over in the bed, covering his head with his pillow and huffing.

Alfred, on the other hand, was already up and about, cheerfully making coffee down in the kitchen, completely hangover free. It was a blessing he'd been born with, he just never got hangovers no matter how much he drank. But in anticipation over Ivan's hangover, he'd set aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table for him.

Right on time, as Alfred took the frying bacon off of the skillet and slapped it, along with a fried egg, onto two pieces of toast, Ivan trudged into the kitchen, looking like hell warmed over. Alfred just cheerfully shoved the food into Ivan's hands and directed him to sit at the table while he got started on his own breakfast. How great was it to have food in the house!?

"Good morning, Rob~" He trilled, grinning at Ivan, who merely grunted at him in response. Alfred laughed and ruffled his hair and Ivan wanted to punch him for not only not having a hangover, but for being one of those annoyingly cheery morning people that everyone who isn't a morning person hates.

"Good morning, Jamie." He grunted, not even looking up from his coffee at the other man, who had finished his own breakfast sandwich and sat down across from him at the table. Alfred scooted the newspaper over to him with a grin on his face and Ivan nodded curtly and opened it. It seems as if Elizaveta had broken through that case she'd been working on, since the prostitution ring she'd been working against had been busted up. He didn't mention it to Alfred, assuming he'd already seen it and wanting to keep the work talk out of the safe house for obvious reasons.

"Looks like it might snow today." Was all he said, his hangover already easing with the application of aspirin, coffee, and the food. Alfred nodded and looked out the kitchen window, sighing and resting his face in his hand. Ivan didn't enjoy the snow, but it might be worth it to see how excited Alfred got. In past years, the younger man had run out of several meetings to experience the first snow.

"I love the snow." Alfred sighed wistfully, gazing out of the window onto the windswept, leaf-covered back yard. He liked the way their relationship had lapsed out of the frankly tiring, constant barrage of hatred and snark into something quieter. It was still very stiff and neither of them seemed to know what to do or say, but it was less that they were forcibly staying stiff and more that they barely knew each other, really.

Ivan didn't answer him, but Alfred didn't mind. He just clutched his coffee cup in his hands and looked out of the window, blue eyes fading to nearly grey like the color of the sky outside as he stared into it, wishing for snow.

When the knock came at the door, it was Ivan who was the first up, leaving the pensive young man at the kitchen table and going to answer it. When he opened it, there stood Mei Li in her business-like LBD with her two companions flanking her.

"Hello, Robert." She greeted, something in her smile setting off alarm bells in his head.

"Hello, Mei Li. What can I do for you?" He asked, not stepping out of the doorway.

She didn't answer, merely clicking her fingers. Ivan growled and slammed the door shut as Im Yong Soo and the other man came at him, taking off through the living room. He found Alfred still at the kitchen table, but he was alert now, suspicious.

"What happened?" He asked.

"No time to explain, Mei Li and her men have seen fit to attack." He snarled. Alfred sprang into action immediately, knocking the table down to act as a barrier and drawing his gun.

"Fuck me!" He cursed, a snarl forming on his face as the three of them came into the kitchen with ropes and their pistols. Alfred took a shot and hit Im Yong in the shoulder, but they kept coming. He took another shot and hit the other man in the thigh, but still they didn't stop.

He tried to level a shot at Mei Li, but his gun merely clicked, out of ammo. Had he forgotten to reload it? He had thought he'd checked the entire thing the other night just to make sure everything was in working order.

This whole time Ivan had been searching frantically for his own pistol, but it was nowhere to be found. He'd set it down the night before when they were drunk, not trusting himself, considering his train of thought that night.

Ivan's eyes widened as Mei Li held up his pistol, smirking, and Im Yong Soo emptied a handful of bullets from one of his pockets. Alfred cursed and took a step back, fists up in preparation to fight for his life as he tried to inch back towards the sliding glass doors leading out to the back yard.

"Not so fast~" Mei Li trilled, smirking even wider as two more goons they hadn't even seen came out behind them through the glass doors and grabbed Alfred. He struggled, but the man was much larger than him, about Ivan's size.

Ivan snarled and lept for the woman, only to be grabbed by two more men even larger than he was. He kicked and struggled desperately, but their grips were like iron. He didn't even see the blackjack coming, didn't realize what was happening until the world went black. His last thoughts were that if he was going to die here and now, he was glad he didn't have to die without settling things with Alfred.

Alfred cried out as he saw Ivan go limp from the strike, his struggle renewing with even greater intensity. But something, a sack, he supposed, was shoved over his head and his hands tied before he met the same fate as Ivan had, unconscious and limp in the large man's arms.


	8. Notice!

Hey guys! I just wanted you to know that the next chapter has been done for almost a year and the only reason I haven't posted it is that…well…the laptop I saved it on is completely and totally dead and until I get a charger, something that hinges on my ever-present monetary concerns being resolved, it's pretty much lost to me. I could rewrite it, but I worked so hard on that chapter and I really, really like it and it would be a shame to have to rewrite. At the same time, I feel terrible. I know I usually make you guys wait months or even close to a year at a time for updates, but I have _never_ kept you guys waiting when something was already done. And I'm also looking at maybe redoing this, like I am Dreamscape. It could definitely use some polish, that's for sure.

I apologize so, so, so much for this, guys. But I have _not_ forgotten this story and it is _not_ discontinued! Just….in a transitional phase.


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